


The Cold - Mystic Messenger

by MonsieurDandylionMethod



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dystopia, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fanfiction, Fluff and Smut, Game of Thrones-esque, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kingdoms, Kings & Queens, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Smut, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 36,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsieurDandylionMethod/pseuds/MonsieurDandylionMethod
Summary: Banished from his kingdom, Yoosung finds himself in the cold and barren tundra, alone and outside of the protection of the Wall. However, The Cold, a resistance of rebels like himself, are living in hiding, their leader being Saeran, who finds Yoosung and brings him to shelter. They train to overtake their kingdom ruled by tyranny, and Yoosung and Saeran's bond grows into something that isn't just friendship. Along the way, all MysMes characters are introduced, including 2 of my OC's... Kings and queens and angst and fluff.





	1. Banished

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on wattpad a while back, so I'm just gonna post it here too... hope you like it :)

_We are safe from the ice. We have the walls to protect us from the cold. We live in warmth. Be thankful for the heat. The ruling can be unfair and tyrannical, but it's not really all that bad. We survive. That's all we ask for. That's all we need._

I walk slowly behind the Emperor, the guards on either side of me pulling the chains to keep me walking. My feet hurt, but it's a dull pain. I see people I know in the crowds that line the street we walk down, our very own parade of shame.

The townspeople are silent, they dare not talk when the Emperor is in such a foul mood. A Banishment is not something to be taken lightly. I try to twist my hands in the metal cuffs clasped around my wrists, bound behind my back, and I can already feel the swollen skin begin to blister.

The guards tug on the twin chains attached to the steel collar around my neck, and I don't even have the energy to pull back and resist. My neck was as sore as my wrists. The wall grew closer and closer, and I could already feel that cold setting in the air around us.

The crowds were growing thin, I assumed because they were not fond of the idea of feeling the cold when I was banished. In my opinion, the fewer spectators, the better, but I could tell the Emperor hated the lack of discipline in his citizens.

I remember him shouting, "I want you all to see this! Show you what happens when you Dis-oh-bay." He had separated the syllables, then let out a low, dark chuckle, and left the podium.

What had I done to disobey? The Emperor has called it 'Rebellion'. Something about Disobeying his Supreme Lawfulness. 'Rebellion', my ass.

I had spoken out. Previously, I had been the Court Overseer's apprentice, the trainee to the advisor of the Emperor in court decisions. He was at it again, trying to prove the Innocent to be Guilty.

Guilty for what? Not making the Emperor laugh, apparently. The Court Jester was barely older than me, his job being passed down for generations. But apparently, the red-headed golden-eyes Jester didn't suit the Emperor.

With his head bowed, the Jester did not protest against the Emperor, lest his punishment be decreased to an even lower statue.

He looked to already be facing a #41, but one word from him would set him down to a #36; I'd witnessed it many times myself, the air from my boss's lungs puffing out into the stale air with disappointment. So the Jester stayed silent.

I, however, did not. "Hey..." I whispered carefully, and Court Overseer glared at me.

"Q-U-I-E-T," he signed quickly. I shook my head.

"Hey!" I vaulted over the gate that separated me from the Court floor. The Emperor glanced at me, annoyed. "This isn't fair."

The Emperor raised his eyebrows, "I'll let you off without punishment if you stop now, subject."

"No, I... I don't see how this is fair."

"Oh? Why is that? Please enlighten me." The Emperor brought his flask of wine to his lips primly.

"Well can't you just hire a new Jester if this one doesn't please you?"

The Emperor barked a harsh laugh. "That means time and money, subject. And money can't buy humor. Now, get off my Floor. You'll serve #48 when I'm done here."

A #49. "Clean the Court Floor." That was only the second 'best' punishment. There were 50 punishments in the Emperors Code Of Laws. They increased in severity as they decreased  #1 had never been used, for as far as I'm concerned.

This poor Jester... serving a #41 for the rest of his life: a street vendor. It may not seem so bad to you, but vendors are doomed to live their life on Mortem Avenue, the street that literally sucked the life out of you, oh-so-slowly.

This jester, only 22, still so full of life, would be drained, as  _he_ wouldn't be selling anything; street vendors  _were_ the product, for the night-dwellers who lurked the alleyways. 

I cursed under my breath; this wasn't fair. "Emperor. I will not have this."

"Well, it's not your choice. Stop wasting your breath and my patience. Now, silence."

"Leave him alone! It's not his fault, Emperor," I said boldly.

The Emperor slowly stood, Grey eyes narrowing. "Subj-"

"No!" I suddenly yelled, "I'm sick of standing here watching you torture your subject s day after day! I entered the court system to change the way you rule; to help and guide you into making the right decisions. To make things fair, fair like it was with-"

"ENOUGH!" Emperor bellowed, a vein in his neck pulsing dangerously. "Do not speak of him in front of me."

"I can and I will!" By this point, I was out of it, knowingly throwing a fit like a toddler. "Things were better... with the Chairman!"

A look of shocked rage passed over the Emperors face. "Take... it back."

"I am sick of your ways," I spat, " _Jumin Han."_

"ELIZABETH!" Emperor screeched, and in a blur of white fur, I was pinned to the ground. The snow tiger growled at home, large paws pressed heavily to my torso, pinning me. I felt a crack in my chest. A rib.

"You address me as Emperor and by nothing else!" The tyrant shouted, face red. He glared at me, hatred in his eyes, "I sentence you to Punishment Number Two, and you all will leave this court immediately. I am to retire. Guards, bring him to the dungeons. Jester, I cannot deal with you now. Leave my castle."

And with that, the black-haired Emperor fled the Courtroom, and I was dragged to the dungeons.

...

To be honest, I'm scared out of my mind for the cold. All I've ever known is warmth... but I can feel the wind through my hair and an unpleasant tickle on my chapped lips now. The Emperor strutted forward, wrapping his cloak closer around himself as we walked briskly to the Wall.

I'd only ever b em this close to the Wall once, with a childhood friend, V... I don't see him anymore though. Another story for another time.

Anyways, big wall. It's made of an impossibly large amour of a steel-metal mix, and is approximately 60 meters high. Over the top of the wall is a ceiling made of fluff-like insulation and giant spotlights.

No one knows where the resources came from, but without them, we'd be subject to the cold. I guess this is the point; to keep us in the dark so we don't get any ideas. Mindless slaves to cower in fear of 'dangerous' ideas like Rebellion and Wonder.

The guards yanked me forward, and I grimaced. The Emperor glared at me with disdain as he stopped by the exit, a door built into the wall. He unlocked the large steel entry, unveiling the outside COLD.

I immediately wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep Warm. It was pure white, and endless expanse of frozen cold, and specks of white falling quickly from the sky.

The sky... I'd never seen it before. It was beautiful. A light blue, clouded over with a grey mist... The air was fresh, unlike the stale over-carbonated air of our kingdom.

"Name?" I snapped back into reality.

"Yoosung Kim."

"Yoosung Kim, of 21 years of age, previously housed in the East District, you are hereby banished from the Kingdom of Aithne."

And with that, I was thrown out into the Cold.


	2. Cold Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yoosung out in the cold, enter saeran

Yoosung landed face-first in the cold, white heaves, a strange sensation as the substance compacted underneath his weight. Shivering, he slowly pushed himself up to a kneel. 

Behind him, the Emperor had already closed the door with a dull  _thump._ Yoosung squeezed his eyes shut, "This is real. This is happening." He stood, then glanced behind himself. 

The Wall stretched for miles, curving slowly out of his sight as it would eventually form a circle. Its grey surface was covered in what Yoosung only knew to be solidified water. The concept was crazy; he had only ever seen liquid water and stream from his baths. 

Yoosung reached out cautiously and placed a finger on the brilliant, freezing sculptures. He recoiled instantly but still gazed at the odd and new sight. 

In front of him lay an endless wasteland of cold. Yoosung only wore a t-shirt and sweatpants, the only clothes that were provided to him from the Emperor, and his physical health wasn't the greatest either. 

The guards had landed a few punches on him before he was thrown into his cell, and that had left him with an aching jaw and a swollen eye. He also  _really_  had to pee. 

Out of habit, he glanced around for other people before relieving himself, even though he knew no one was around. "I guess that's the point," Yoosung murmured under his breath, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that he'd never seen before, "Isolation... Well, I can't just stay here." 

So Yoosung started walking, slowly trudging through the cold. 

 

...

 

A figure walked with ease over the top of the snow, large racket-like snowshoes strapped to his boots. Saeran was patrolling for outcasts, like himself and the rest of The Cold. The sun had just barely risen, casting vague, pink glow over the still snow. 

It had stopped snowing hours ago, and now the endless, cloudless sky stretched wide and open ahead of Saeran. 

The kingdom was a speck on the horizon, a small grey dome. Saeran sighed with content. He didn't miss it at all. He had a new life here... away from that so-called Emperor, away from his broken-down house, and... away from Saeyoung. 

Saeran clenched his fists. "Not now," he muttered to himself, "Don't think about him now." 

The man puffed out a breath, watching it condense into visibility in the freezing air. He had walked far enough that he could no longer hear the clash of swords or the shouts of the early-risers and commanders, but he still stayed within sight of the Fortress. 

Saeran shook his head. Nothing was going to happen. It would be okay to go further. With that, he set off at a clipped pace, scanning the ground ahead of him for any sign of human life. 

 

About half an hour later, Saeran spotted a large mound of snow piled up to his left. Carefully, he began trekking towards it, hand on the hilt of his knife if it was a bear, but not even certain if he could take a polar bear down himself... 

But Saeran soon realized that it was too small to be a bear den, and began walking faster.

When he reached the mound, he carefully inspected it before kneeling and slowly digging the snow away with his gloved hands. 

After a few scoops, he spotted a flash of dull yellow. Frowning, he found it to be... hair??

With newfound motivation, Saeran scooped the snow off the being, all the while praying that whoever it was, they were alive. 

After a minute or two, he sat back on his heels, breathing quickly. 

In front of him lay a boy bout his age, curled in a ball on the ground, skin nearly blue from the cold, dull, ice-encrusted clothes, and soft yellow hair. His lips were slightly parted, and his eyes were closed. 

Mind racing, Saeran immediately unfurled the boy's limbs from his fetal position and pressed his ear to the boy's freezing chest. He sighed in deep relief when he heard the slow, but steady thump. 

_Hypothermia. I need to get him back._

Quickly, Saeran picked up the boy, curling him into his chest. And with that, he began running back to the fortress, begging the boy to stay alive until he could get him to warmth again. 


	3. Infirmary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saerans voice... yoosung in the infirmary

Yoosung moaned in pain softly, sleep sliding off his mind, but sticking just enough to keep him only barely conscious. Every inch of his body ached in pain, but he was more confused than anything. 

It was then that the warmth hit, the incredible soft heat that he thought he'd never feel again. He remembered being banished and then walking... walking... walking. There were no memories present after that. 

Had he died? Was that why he was so warm? Yoosung tried to take a deeper breath, but it hurt his chest too much. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids wouldn't budge, try as he might. 

He had to know where he was... Even though it hurt like hell, he suddenly heaved out a large breath of air, whining slightly at the pain, trying to alert someone... anyone? 

Suddenly, muddled and foggy voices. 

"Did you hear that? I think he's awake, boss."

Yes, that was definitely a voice. Low, feminine, and timid, but a voice nonetheless. And then, Yoosung could feel something other than warmth. 

Small fingers curled around his wrist lightly, and then the soft pad of a thumb pressed into the inside of his wrist. 

"Yeah, he's definitely here."

"Good." 

This voice was different. Its low, silky tone sent what Yoosung thought to be shivers down his spine. These shivers were different than the cold though. Yoosung shuddered, shaking his head, not wanting to remember the hallowing Cold. 

"Good job, kid. Glad you pulled through." Yoosung froze. The voice was close now. Too close. Right in his ear. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the warm breath puffing to the shell of his ear. He shuddered again. 

He heard a low chuckle, and then the breath pulled away. Yoosung didn't know if he was glad. Who were these strangers? What were they going to do to him? He was wary of Mr. Silk over there. Stupid him, with his deep voice and presumably attractive face. 

Yoosung winced as his mind began jumping to conclusions. Had he been kidnapped? Was he being held captive? Where they a rapist group that had captured him?! Was he going to die?! None of his questions were answered of course, as they remained unvoiced, but it was worth thinking about it nonetheless. 

"When will he  _really_  wake up?" Silk grunted.

"It's hard to say, but probably either tomorrow or the day after. His body temperature is still unstable without the heating pads. His heart slows when his temp's even a degree under 99. Are they all like this?" 

WHO IS THEY?

"Yes, he'll get used to it soon though. All the others did. Don't worry, he'll be fucking  _frolicking_  in the snow in no time, and his temp will go to average."

WHAT IS SNOW?

"I trust you, sir."

Now Yoosung felt even MORE confused. What did his body temperature have to do with anything? It was higher than average? But back in the Kingdom, most temperatures were at least five or six degrees higher than him. Was there something wrong? 

But Yoosung was exhausted, even now, after only a few brief minutes of consciousness. He sighed softly, inching his head to the side, drifting back to sleep.

"Yes, let's hope for tomorrow."

 

...

 

Yoosung woke with a start, gasping even though it burned his lungs. Tears pooled in his eyes, and he coughed violently, pain racking through his body. Heaving, the nightmare repeated over and over in his head. 

_They were only seven years old. V's face was emotionless as he pushed past Yoosung, who stood with pleading eyes as he watched his one and only friend being escorted to The Wall, and willingly as well._

_There stood the Queen of the Other Kingdom, a separate kingdom more formally known as Calida. The powerful woman stood straight, looking down at V, shrouded in various unknown animal furs, her white hair pulled into a tight bun, ice-blue eyes staring straight at V's tall brave posture, much like her own._

_He had bowed, kissing the back of the Queen's outstretched hand, before straightening to address her. "Name?" She asked coldly._

_"Jihyun Kim," he replied, clasping his hands in front of him, teal hair pushed out of his face. Yoosung watched in disbelief as the Queen pulled a young girl, who had been previously hiding behind her mother's large skirt, to stand next to her._

_The girl had long blonde hair, waves flowing over her shoulders. Her bright green eyes locked on V with curiosity. "Rika, this is Jihyun," the Queen said, almost sternly._

_V had bowed to Rika too, and she had giggled in an annoyingly high-pitched voice. And without even a glance or a goodbye to Yoosung, V had left with the two rulers of Calida._

_And Yoosung was alone._

The one sight that would forever haunt Yoosung was those bright green eyes staring at Yoosung as the door closed behind them, a lilting smirk on her soft pink lips. 

Yoosung gasped for breath, heart pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with fear. He didn't open his eyes again until his heart had returned to normal. 

It was then that he remembered that he was, in fact, alive. But how?


	4. Meet the Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saeran the king haha, meeting the resistance

Yoosung sat on a wooden-framed bed with sterile white sheets, with three white curtains obscuring his view from the rest of the room. 

A needle was injected into his forearm, connected to a tube that led to a plastic bag of clear liquid, which hung from a tall metal stand next to Yoosung. 

The room smelled of disinfectant and something like lemon perfume: artificial and too sweet. The sheets around him hung from the ceiling, which was wood-slatted. 

Yoosung, curious, slowly pushed back the warm covers. It was then that he realized what he was wearing. A flannel button-down shirt obscured his chest and hung to his mid-thigh, and then sleeves draped down past his fingers, and it looked strikingly feminine, but it was comfortable, and Yoosung definitely not going to go around shirtless.

Underneath the long shirt, he wore an unfamiliar set of boxers, plain white with an elastic waistband. However, these were considerably short and had elastic hems too, making them look more like bloomers than anything. Yoosung felt a light blush on his cheeks. 

He slowly slipped his legs out from under the covers and placed them on the small blue rug that covered the scratched wooden floor. Oh-so-slowly, he put pressure on them to try and stand. Not entirely trusting himself, he grabbed hold of the metal stand that attached to his inner forearm.

This proved to be useful, and soon, he was tottering slowly and on shaky legs out of his private tent of curtains.

It turned out he was in a large rectangular room with many beds identical to his own, neatly made. There were a few beds with curtains surrounding them, but Yoosung didn't dare to look inside. 

Instead, he walked as quietly as possible to the open door that seemed to lead to a hallway. Once outside, he gulped; he had no idea which way to go. However, when he stopped, he began hearing an odd clamor to his left. 

Yoosung decided to head  _that_  way, stupid him,  _towards_  the noise. He couldn't help it if he was curious!

At the end of the hallway, a light came from the right, and as Yoosung got closer, he recognized the clamor as voices. Lots of voices. What was this? Some sort of cult organization come to steal his kidneys? Yoosung couldn't help but pat his abdomen lightly, as if reassuring his internal organs.

Pushing past his fear, he sped up his pace. Well, as much as a post-hypothermic, weak, battered, and bruised practically-senior-citizen could speed up his hobble. 

The raucous got louder and louder, and Yoosung could soon hear the sound of utensils against plates too. So it was a cafeteria...? Yoosung's aching stomach moaned for food, and he sighed heavily. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Yoosung reached the opening, and the sight before him nearly had him fainting dead away. 

Long tables held hundreds of talking, laughing, and eating people of all ages. Most were in their twenties or thirties, or so it seemed, but there were a few older and some teens and even children. The tables formed four long rows with walking space in between.

The room itself was probably three times bigger than the infirmary Yoosung had just been in, with a tall, domed ceiling. 

At the end of the room, what seemed like a throne was standing atop several boxes, towering about 6 feet above the floor. Reclined lazily in the grand chair was a young man about Yoosung's age, with muscled arms and bleach-white hair. It was then that someone noticed Yoosung standing in the doorway.

"OYE! HEY, CUTIE!" a man bellowed, standing up. All head swiveled around to face Yoosung, conversation trickling away. Yoosung promptly wanted to melt into the floor from all the attention. 

The man quickly got up, as did many others, and began slowly walking towards Yoosung, friendly grins and curious smiles as they jostled next to each other. As far as Yoosung could tell, there was no malicious intent, but he still kept his guard up. 

However, before the crowd could get too close, a figure jumped in front of Yoosung. He blinked. The figure spoke. "Hands to your dirty selves! He's mine!" It was a woman, a bit older than Yoosung with long brown hair and coffee eyes. 

The man who had noticed me before called out, "Shut up, we all know you're gay as fuck, Jaehee." This was met by loud laughter, and Jaehee grinned herself, nudging Yoosungwith her elbow playfully, before yelling out herself. 

"HEY SAERAN! BOSS, IS HE STAYING? C'MON, I SAVED HIS LIFE. YOU'VE GOTTA LET HIM STAY!" Ah, so that's why Yoosung recognized her voice. Jaehee had been the one to tell this Boss guy about Yoosung's condition. So that must make... Saeran, the guy on the throne, Mr. Silk.

All heads turned back to the man who was sitting on the throne. He was now sitting straighter, alert. Saeran uncrossed his legs, and then dropped from his chair with a light thump, staying his crouched position on the floor for just a beat longer than necessary, almost giving him a cat-like appearance. 

No one spoke as he walked slowly down the middle aisle towards us, but Yoosung knew for sure that he himself was positively terrified of this guy, with his daunting presence and clear confidence. 

Even his clothing made him seem dangerous. He wore a dark red tank top, a black, shiny hoodie that slumped off his right shoulder to expose an odd-looking tattoo of an intricate eye design, a delicate leather choker on his neck, and black jeans and boots. 

Yoosung could see Saeran's eyes more clearly now, and they seemed to pop from the black eyeliner around his lids that vaguely resembled the circles around a street vendor's eyes after a few nights on Mortem Ave. Yoosung wondered if that was on purpose. 

Anyways,  _those eyes_. They were a bright minty teal, and they seemed to pierce right through Yoosung, wide and sharp. 

The crowd parted down the center and Saeran swaggered through, smirking slightly. He approached Yoosung, looking him up and down briefly. He nodded once, then turned to face the crowd.

"Ladies," he looked to Jaehee, with a pointed glance, "Gentlemen," he raised an eyebrow at the man who had originally called Yoosungout, "I apologize," he slung a heavy arm around Yoosung's shoulders, "for having to disappoint your apparently  _raging_  hormones," there were a few sniggers as he flourished his free hand to the crowd, "But..." he smirked and winked simultaneously, "Fresh meat is mine." 


	5. Vanderwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yoosung meets mary vanderwood and tells saeran about his plans.

Saeran watched the boy's expression carefully as the crowd dispersed. He seemed to be staring at the tables quite a bit- OH!

"I bet you're hungry. Come with me," Saeran said quietly, placing a hand on the newcomer's shoulderblade. He didn't let it show that he was surprised when the boy didn't move, but was prepared. "All of your questions will be answered," he reassured. The blonde-haired boy nodded and followed Saeran to the ordering counter, run by their very own kitchen staff, who were part of the resistance as well.

"What do you want to eat?"

"What do you have?" It was the first time Saeran had heard the boy speak, and he smiled to himself. 

"Hey, Vanderwood," Saeran called into the kitchen, leaning on the counter. 

"Saeran," A tall, seemingly androgynous man appeared at the counter, greeting Saeran with a nod before scanning his eyes over Yoosung, "Who's this?"

Saeran didn't know the boy's name either, so he stepped aside to let the two shake hands. 

"I'm Yoosung."

 _Yoosung. Huh._  

"You can just call me Vanderwood. I practically run this place. I'm head of cleaning, cooking, and general shit. Stay in line, don't go killing anybody. Speaking of which," Vanderwood turned to Saeran, "We're running low on medical supplies; somebody's gotta do a run soon. Another fucking tournament is coming up. The butt-heads think it's gotta be a weekly occurrence. You know what I think it is? A pain in my ass. Get me some new recruits who can sew a few stitches. You wouldn't believe the kind of shit people come into the infirmary for. 'Oh Doctor Vanderwood, I got a paper-cut!' 'Oh Doctor Vanderwood, I stubbed my toe!' No. Get these wimps outta the way of people who actually need my help. We don't need 30-year-old men running to me crying for Mommy Vanderwood every time they get their feelings hurt. Tell Jaehee to step up their training regiment, for the love of God." Saeran nodded stoically, trying not to burst out laughing at Vanderwood's antics. 

"I'll keep all of that in mind, thanks man. Now, can you get some lunch for this poor kid?" 

"Don't just think about it, Saeran. Do it. And we've got pizza and hamburgers kid, whaddaya want?" 

"A hamburger. Please. Thank you." Saeran smirked at this, already knowing how Vanderwood would react.

"See, Saeran? This is the kinda kid we need! R-E-S-P-E-C-T. CAN I GET A HAMBURGER OVER HERE?"

When he was served the delicious-looking burger, he thanked Vanderwood again before looking to Saeran for a place to sit. 

They chose a small table off to the side, away from the loud crown. 

Okay, I'm just gonna ask a few basic questions, and then you can ask every single one of yours. This is just protocol."

Yoosung nodded, munching happily on his hamburger. 

"First, your full name?"

"Yoosung Kim," he spoke around the burger in his mouth.

"Age?" 

"21." Saeran kicked the ass of his perverted mind that was whispering things like, "It would've been legal if we were still in Aithne," in his head. He absolutely didn't need that right now.

"And you were banished for what?"

Yoosung was too immersed in his food to have the common sense to ask why, "I said something that offended him," he replied vaguely. 

Saeran's pervy mind wondered if asking his sexuality could count as protocol.

"Okay, that's it, go ahead." Saeran patiently waited for Yoosung to finish his burger, his pervert mind screaming as Yoosung licked the grease and ketchup off his fingers slowly.

"Where am I?"

"30 miles away from Aithne in an incredibly well defended and hidden hideout."

"Who are you? Who is this group, more of?"

"We call ourselves The Cold Resistance. We're a group that's accumulated over 300 rebels and outlaws from the three kingdoms. You'll see a lot of people you might recognize here, and please say hello if you want, but most of us are still very sensitive, and we don't often like bringing up the topic of our old kingdoms."

"Wait, did you say three kingdoms?"

"Yeah. You probably know two of them, Aithne and Calida, but the third is a good 60 or 70 miles away from us, called Tannon. We know very little about it, and only have a couple recruits from it. It's very discreet, and its High Justice communicates with the Emperor and the Queen very rarely."

"Wow... I had no idea. What's your cause? What's your point?"

"We train for hours, always wanting to get stronger and more fit, but our overall plan... well, it's complicated-"

"You don't have one, do you?" Yoosung asked bluntly. 

"Not really, no." Saeran sighed. 

"What's my role here?"

"Woah, already claiming yourself as a recruit? That's a bold move."

"I think you need me more than you think you do." Saeran's pervy brain sprung back up.

Saeran coughed. "And why is that?"

Yoosung rolled his eyes before standing. "Will you please take me to wherever you took my clothes? There's something I need to show you."

Saeran stood up as well, and silently led the way to the laundry room, which was through a passage on the opposite side of the cafeteria, and then three doors down. Steam swirled around the two figures as the entered the room, weaving through the workers as they stirred giant pots of boiling water over kettles, adding garments, towels, and sheets. 

At the back of the room, Yoosungs clothes were folded neatly in a pile on an ironing board. Yoosung smiled to himself in relief when he saw that his necklace had remained. 

A medium-sized cylinder with gold etchings on the sides held Yoosung's plans for The Cold. He carefully unscrewed the cap of the cylinder, then pulled a thick roll of paper out of the hollow and glanced up at Saeran.

"What's that?" Saeran questioned over the sound of the laundry.

"My plans to overtake Aithne."


	6. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> history and layout of the resistance, some fluff

Saeran fixed Yoosung with a wide-eyed gaze. They quickly walked out of the laundry room, Saeran holding Yoosung by his elbow, dragging him down two hallways before finally arriving in a jumbled office.

The room was square, with bookshelves on both the left and right walls, books upon books stacked and squeezed together. There was a large desk by the back, papers and more books piled upon that as well. There was a chair on either side of the desk.

Saeran quickly walked behind the desk and left Yoosung to stand in front. "Show me," he demanded in a deep, commanding voice. Yoosung shuddered but was not unaccustomed to being ordered around. 

He frowned at the harsh tone, he was, in fact, helping Saeran, but laid out the documents. The first was a map that he had composed on his night walks around the kingdom. He had been working on it for years, and it was nearly complete, save the Northern District, which was heavily guarded, as many criminally charged citizens lived there and Yoosung couldn't even get close.

"The four districts: North, East, South, West." He pointed to each respectively. "North is where most punishments are held. Mortem Ave. goes right down the middle. East and West districts hold residential houses and all of our shops. The door is in the middle of the wall in the Western district. The castle and all other high-caste members' are in the Southern district."

The next document was a list of names and house numbers. "These are our allies. They're for the rebellion." Saeran scanned the list. His eyes caught on a name, " _Saeyong Choi - 14W_." 

"Who's he?" Saeran asked nonchalantly.

"He's the- or,  _was_  the Emperor's Joker. I actually saw the case that he was fired in, but that was when I spoke out, so he actually got off the hook. I've met him a few times; he's pretty cool. Why?"

"No reason." Saeran's heart throbbed. "What's the third one?"

"Different routes of attack."

The parchment listed at least 20 different ways of getting into the castle, from the sewer system to brute force. 

Saeran sat back in his chair, motioning for Yoosung to sit too. 

"I'm impressed. This helps a lot. However... you're very gullible."

Yoosung's eyes widened.  _Oh no_. 

"Don't worry, we're genuine. But be careful about what you say to strangers, m'kay?" Saeran smiled like he was talking to a child, explaining why they can't go near the Northern district. This irked Yoosung slightly; he  _was_  an adult. But he simply nodded in reply.

"So now that you're here, you can't just slack off. You're gonna need a job to do. We all have one. What are you interested in?" 

"Well, earlier, Vanderwood said something about needing new recruits in the infirmary?" Saeran nodded. "I can sew stitches, and I know quite a lot of medical information... I would be happy to work there, if you want."

"Yeah, okay. We'll see how you do. Now, for your physicality..."

"What about it?" Yoosung looked down uneasily; he knew he wasn't the strongest or the fastest, and it stung that Saeran had pointed it out.

"You'll have training every day for a few hours. Since you're new, I'll train you myself for now, but you'll be doing some group work when you get used to the routines and you develop some muscle. The Cold is very centered on teamwork: we don't work alone. Everyone who's come here has learned that. You need to be able to trust every single one of us with your life, and people need to be able to trust you too. That's the only way this works. Throwing shade is gonna land you outside the fortress on your ass with no shelter."

" You may encounter a situation one day when your life depends on us, or vice versa, and you'll have to know how to act in various situations. I'm not gonna just be testing your body either," Yoosung perked up; he was actually quite smart, "You're brain training is just as important as your body. We don't want a bunch of idiots who don't even know addition to be throwing punches, eh?"

Saeran grinned, "Don't worry, you'll be fine." 

Yoosung nodded again, absorbing all the information. It was a lot to take in, and he was a bit overwhelmed, but he was already feeling lighter than he ever felt in Aithne before V was taken away.

"I'm gonna study these for a bit longer, if that's okay. You can go explore, meet people, whatever. Don't get into too much trouble," Saeran teased as he pulled out the map again. 

"Yeah. Oh, and... thank you, for rescuing me and all." 

Saeran let a genuine smile cross his lips, "No problem." 

Yoosung smiled back, then exited the office, closing the door behind him. He sighed and kept the smile on his face as he walked back to the cafeteria.

There were a couple loud hoots and some applause as Yoosung reentered and the woman from before, Jaehee, was immediately next to Yoosung, her arm around his shoulder, handing him a cup of water. 

She smiled happily, "Hey, newbie!"

He grinned back and went to sip the water, but nearly choked when it touched his tongue.

_COLD._

"Oops, forgot that you've never tasted cold water before," Jaehee said sheepishly, but almost as if drinking warm water was unheard of. A few people chuckled as they watched the interaction.

The cold water slid down Yoosung's throat and he giggled quietly. It was refreshing, unlike the taste of warm water that just made him drowsy. His small smile turned into a grin, and then he chugged the rest of the water, chucking it at one of the men when he was done, everyone else laughing and clapping him on the back. 

The smiles were abundant, something that had never really existed in Aithne. 

Yoosung knew this feeling.

He was happy.

 

...

 

Yoosung spent the next few hours meeting people, telling his life story dozens of times (leaving out V and Rika), explaining what was happening in Aithne to the previous citizens, and then getting a tour from Jaehee. 

The layout of the fortress was easy enough to remember. The middle of the building was the cafeteria, or what some called the Main Hall. From there, five sections branched out from hallways. They had all the necessities, each in their separate gigantic rooms. This included a workshop, blacksmith shop and workplace, and a library, as well as many others. 

People were housed in dorm rooms, one on each hallway: 2 for women, 2 for men, and 1 for families and children. Each dorm held 30 bunkbeds, in rows of five, with stacks of pillows and blankets on each mattress. 

"We've been slowly accumulating supplies from Aithne for years now. We have friends in the kingdom that send us supplies with we need it. About 75% of our resources come from Aithne." Jaehee told Yoosung when he asked about it.

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh, I'd say about 5 years now."

"And you guys still haven't made an attack? How long has Saeran been here, in charge?" He didn't mean to make it sound so accusatory. 

"Hey now!" Jaehee yelped indignantly, "Boss has been here longer than me, maybe 8 years, but we're building up strength!"

Yoosung decided it would be best to just leave the subject alone.

 

 

Later that night, Yoosung ate dinner with Saeran again. They talked more about The Cold and Yoosung's plans. "They're extremely helpful. This means a lot." 

Yoosung flushed in embarrassment and nodded silently. 

 When finished, Saeran stood, then held out his hand to Yoosung. "Welcome to The Cold. Your first day starts tomorrow," he said proudly as Yoosung shook his hand. 

"Thank you as well."

"Do you know how to get to your dorm room from here?" 

"Yes, Jaehee showed me. Thank you."

"No need for thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," Yoosung said quietly. As soon as the door closed behind him, Yoosung sighed, then smiled slightly. His hand tingled from were Saeran had touched it...

What the hell was he thinking? Jesus, at 21 and still acting like he was going through puberty and he'd never seen an attractive man before. 

" _Get your freaking hormones under control_."

Yoosung shook his head, then walked off to his dorm room.


	7. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morning at the resistance, yoosungs first day

Yoosung woke slowly to the sound of voices mingling. He sat up in his bottom bunk (no top bunks were open, but he was fine with that anyways), rubbing his eyes and yawning. 

The other men around him were waking up too, mumbling to each other and pulling shirts on over muscled chests and torsos. Yoosung glanced down at his own pathetically flabby stomach and pouted.

Yoosung had a more appropriate outfit to put on today, instead of bloomers. He quickly pulled on the white, plain t-shirt and grey sweatpants, as well as lacing the black sneakers. Sure, it wasn't coordinated, but everything smelled fresh and it was comfortable. He personally liked it more than the scratchy wool sweater and tight slacks he had to wear in Aithne.

Yoosung began hearing the showers in the connecting room turn on, the water spray hitting the cold, stone floor, but decided against going nude in front of everyone on his second day. Instead, he followed the rest of the men to the main hall for breakfast. 

Upon arriving in the large room, sunlight filtering down through windows in the ceiling, casting warm rays down unto the tables already set with plates and utensils, food out on large plates. From pancakes to eggs to ham, everything was there. The warm, sweet smells of food filled the room, as well as wafting from the neighboring kitchen were the sound of frying meat could be heard. 

The families were already up and eating, as the toddlers and babies seemed to get up first. The other dorms were filing in too, women and girls with their hair in braids or messy buns, talking with each other or reuniting with their guy friends.

Conversations and laughter filled up the room like the sunlight and the smell of food, and Yoosung searched for a place to sit. Just as he was about to sit alone, he heard Jaehee's cheery voice. 

"Yoosung!"

He turned and saw her waving wildly at him. He let out a sigh of relief and hurried over, sitting down between Jaehee and another boy, slightly younger than him, who Yoosung recognized to be his bunkmate, Cylus. 

"Mornin'," Cylus mumbled through the eggs he was shoving into his mouth, pausing to wink at Yoosung happily. 

"How'd you sleep?" Jaehee asked, helping herself to a giant mug of coffee and a pancake, offering Yoosung a basket of muffins. He took one, then nodded thanks.

"Pretty well... Hey, do you think there's any chance that I could go outside today?" He didn't know why he was  _asking;_  going outside should be a completely reasonable thing to do. He added on reasoning anyways, "After 21 years of not seeing the sky, I want to take in as much as I can." 

"Yeah, you  _are_ pretty pale," Jaehee teased, "But you've gotta go after jobs and training, can't laze around just to play in the snow."

"Yeah, Saeran said that too. And snow?"

"The white stuff on the ground."

"Oh," Yoosung said bluntly, feeling stupid. 

Suddenly, the rebels started banging their fists on the table, laughing and shouting. Yoosung turned to look at the cause of the commotion.

 _Of course_.

There was Saeran, walking lazily down the aisle towards his throne, grinning and sending careless winks to those he passed.

Yoosung had to focus on keeping his jaw closed as his eyes skated down the leader's chest and abs, v-line peeking up from the hem of Saeran's low-set sweatpants. There were a few whistles, and Saeran smirked, boosting himself up onto his throne, biceps flexing as he lifted himself up. 

"Good morning all," he said in a low, smooth voice, mint eyes casting around the room, lingering on none in particular. His bleached hair didn't hide his natural hair color completely, and that annoyed him, but he couldn't use any more of the bleach, as they were running low on that too. 

Saeran nodded to The Cold to motion for them to keep eating, and scanned the room again, picking out Yoosung's blonde hair almost immediately next to Jaehee. The two of them were laughing, bright smiles over their lips. Saeran chuckled to himself, noting to catch up with Yoosung after breakfast.

Alex and Adam, the 7-year-old twins of The Cold, born into the resistance, ran out in front of Saeran's throne, giggling and shoving each other playfully. Saeran winced as old memories of him and Saeyoung playing like that... He erased the expression before anyone could notice, but the thoughts still remained. He'd have to get them out sometime or another; he knew it wasn't healthy to keep them bottled up like this, but what else was he supposed to do? 

The meal lasted for about 15 minutes before people started getting up, clearing their dishes and bringing them up to the kitchen, where the staff began washing and drying at impressive speed, their hands turning pink from the steaming hot water. 

Saeran stood up on his throne while everyone was still in the hall and cupped his hands around his mouth, "Hey guys! Just a quick few announcements!" The room went quiet. "You know the schedule, but we've gotta group heading out later to explore that freaky ice cave later, right after lunch, and I need a few people to help repair snowshoes today, for those who don't have nighttime jobs, alright?"

A few scattered, "Yes, boss,"'s could be heard as the group dispersed down their own separate hallways, depending on their jobs. Yoosung waved to Jaehee as she headed down the hallway towards the training center, where she worked, and to Cylus as he went off to go fishing in the nearby river, only partially covered in ice. 

Yoosung looked to Saeran, who had hopped down from his chair and was now talking with a few women. When he noticed Yoosung standing off to the side, he dismissed the girls and waved Yoosung over.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Good. Nervous."

"Ready for your first day as a Cold member?"


	8. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some streamy one-on-one

Yoosung followed Saeran and about half of the other members down a large, long hallway, towards the training room. Yoosung had seen it once with Jaehee, but didn't have a chance to really look inside, as it was massive.

Upon entering, however, his eyes widened. The room was just as huge as he remembered, with a tall ceiling and rectangular-shaped. The walls and floor were a concrete-stone mixture: dark grey, seemingly smooth but rough enough to allow purchase under shoes and bare feet.

A track, marked by red, painted lines circled the perimeter of the room in an oval, and several people were already jogging around it. Jaehee had explained some of the other activities that the gym contained and Yoosung noted them again.

Five boxing squares were in the back corner, currently unoccupied, with gloves of all sizes in an overflowing trunk. Mats were set up on the floor in front of the boxing squares, for wrestling and hand-to-hand combat. Five archery targets were set up, as well as five gun targets, the arrows with foam tips and the bullets streamlined plastic pieces, so that no one was seriously injured, and the sound of the guns was somehow muted as well.

A large section of wall had smaller rocks drilled onto it, which protruded, forming a complex climbing wall. Large chunks of rock with makeshift handles were placed in pairs, in order by size, on another may, which served as weights. There was even a large trampoline off to the right, as well as a set of uneven bars.

The majority of the people were formed in groups, stretching or talking about their plans for training.

Saeran led Yoosung over to a more secluded area and they sat on the cold floor, Saeran instructing how to stretch to prepare.

"We're gonna do the basics today. Only for a few hours before you go to your job, with a lot of breaks. I'll go easy on you, don't worry."

Yoosung nodded nervously. When they finished stretching, Saeran first brought him over to the track.

"First, we'll gauge your speed, then your endurance. Just try to keep up."

Saeran began running slowly, and Yoosung, feeling a bit out of place, followed, keeping pace, monitoring his breathing. Saeran quickly began speeding up, long legs powering his large strides. Yoosung kept pace well, but his breath started coming heavier.

After only two or three minutes of increased speed, Yoosung began lagging behind. Saeran stopped slowly, letting Yoosung catch his breath, while the bleached-hair leader seemed hardly affected.

"Good. Pretty good. Now let's try endurance."

They started off at an even pace, slightly faster than a jog, and Yoosung felt better, more confident in his abilities of long-distance. They made it 4 1/2 times around the track, around 10 minutes, before stopping, Yoosung's chest heaving.

"Very good. Did you ever run long-distance in Aithne?" Saeran's voice twitched at the kingdom's name, and it felt awkward on his tongue.

"Not really. I walked a lot though."

"Oh. Good to know. Let's try some weights."

...

An hour later, Saeran had tried everything from dumbbells (Yoosung was pitifully weak) to push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, flips on the trampoline, to archery (Yoosung was surprisingly good at), to the rock wall (It came naturally to him), and were now moving on to their final activity.

"Hand-to-hand combat. You'll be using this the most, aside from running. We have tons of matches and races, and it uses all your muscles, and therefore is extremely important."

Saeran led Yoosung to an empty mat and stood opposite from him.

"I won't actually try to hit you, but just go by instinct at first. I'll teach you all the moves after I get a feel of what you're already good at. Ready?"

Yoosung nodded.

Saeran began circling Yoosung slowly, his hands in fists up by his chest. Yoosung turned with him, heart beating nervously.

Suddenly, Saeran struck out, his fist shooting out towards Yoosung's face. Yoosung quickly dodged, but barely.

Saeran stepped back, then struck out again, this time at Yoosung's stomach. Yoosung didn't react in time, and Saeran's fist stopped just centimeters away from his stomach.

"Careful," he remarked. Yoosung gulped.

This time, when Saeran's fist shot at Yoosung's stomach, he side-stepped and met Saeran's arm with the side of his own, pushing it away.

"Good. Now try to land a few hits."

Awkward and clumsy, Yoosung balled his fists like Saeran and half-heartedly aimed at Saeran's already-smirking face. He stopped it easily, long, slender fingers wrapping around Yoosung's wrist.

"That was pathetic. Try again."

...

Yoosung collapsed on the ground, heaving for breath, eyes closed.

"That was good! Much better."

They had been at it for nearly 45 minutes, ducking, parrying, striking out but never hitting. Saeran could've hit him dozens of times, but always stopped short, never even grazing Yoosung's skin.

That didn't mean that he went easy, of course. Several times Saeran had tripped Yoosung or somehow caused him to stumble back.

Even Yoosung knew how gentle Saeran was going on him. Those bulging biceps held a lot more power and strength than Yoosung's meek punches, if you could even call them that.

Saeran held out a hand for Yoosung, and he took it gratefully, allowing himself to be pulled up.

"I think that's enough for today. I'm gonna stay here, but you head off to see Vanderwood in the infirmary for work. You did well this morning. Pretty soon, we'll be able to have an actual fight," Saeran grinned, winking at Yoosung.

The blonde poured, but then waved, nodding thanks.

Yoosung walked past the heavily training athletes, smiling to himself despite his sore muscles and tired body.

He walked to the infirmary alone, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket by the kitchen entrance.

Yoosung quickly found his way back to the infirmary, down that long hallway that he had first seen of The Cold's fortress.

Vanderwood was checking in with a patient when Yoosung entered, a tall man with a cast over his forearm.

"No, don't be thankful. I know I'm amazing. Just don't be an idiot next time," Vanderwood was saying, but there was a light smile on his face, which made the man laugh, patting the bright pink cast material.

"Hi," Yoosung's voice came out louder than he had meant it to.

"Yoosung! Thank god. Saeran told me that you were coming but the dude never told me WHEN so I've just been wondering when you've been coming and trying to keep this place in shape. Here, I'll show you where everything is."

Yoosung nodded, glad to be useful.


	9. Emille and Cologne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vanderwood teaches about the infirmary, enter Emille (one of my OCs), and some fluffy stuff!

For the rest of the morning until lunch, Vanderwood showed Yoosung where all of the supplies were kept and pelted him with questions about what he did and didn't know medically. 

_Can you set a bone? Can you deliver a baby? Can you mix cement for casts? Can you determine a cold from a fever?_

Yoosung answered as honestly as he could, and thought he did a pretty good job, but Vanderwood still gave him a huge pile of medical books to read. 

"Study up."

"All of these?" Yoosung squeaked.

"Problem?" Vanderwood raised an eyebrow.

"No, sir..."

"Good, let's go to lunch. Leave those here." Vanderwood marched through the door, barely holding it open for Yoosung.

Just like breakfast, people streamed in, laughing and talking, shoving each other playfully as they sat down at their unassigned assigned seat. A lot were still sweating from training. 

Yoosung quickly sought out the table that he, Cylus, and Jaehee had sat at earlier and sat down to wait for them.

Lunch was large bowls of potato salad (except this kind was cold, a taste that Yoosung again preferred to heated) and long sliced of bread with different meats, cheese, and vegetables on separate plates.

Yoosung piled a little bit of everything on a white slice, and then shoved a corner in his mouth, eyes crinkling, trying to smile at Jaehee as she sat down next to him. The freshest flavors he could imagine exploded and mixed in his mouth, and Yoosung closed his eyes in bliss. 

Jaehee laughed and clapped Yoosung on the back, nearly causing him to spit out his food at the taste. The woman's long, silky, brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and sweat shone on her forehead. She had shed her light jacket, so she now only wore a tank top, her biceps flexing. 

Yoosung gulped down his sandwich, only thinking about how easily Jaehee, not to mention  _Saeran_ , could crush him in a fight. Whatever strength and knowledge he had gained earlier this morning during training seemed minuscule compared to the experience of the rest of the Cold... He had a lot to do... But what was he thinking; Yoosung had been here for less than two days. Patience. 

When Saeran didn't show up for lunch, Yoosung asked Jaehee about it.

"Yeah, he doesn't come sometimes. Probably working."

"Oh," Yoosung missed the presence of the leader. He brought a sense of unity to the resistance, where they felt grounded, together, "Can you tell me about him?"

"Who, Boss?" Yoosung nodded. "Well it's not really my place, and you'd be better off asking Vanderwood, but I'll tell you what you should know. Saeran was banished from Aithne 7 years ago. He arrived when the previous leader was dying. Upon meeting Saeran, the leader chose him to take over. Saeran agreed, the king died, and Boss became our leader. Saeran doesn't talk much about his past life, or why he was banished, but, from what I've heard, he changed his appearance as soon as he arrived for some reason..." Jaehee trailed off. 

Yoosung nodded, puzzled, "Thanks."

Cylus then sat down, immediately laying his head on his arms, breath shaky. 

"Hey, you okay?" Yoosung asked hesitantly. 

Cylus looked up and Yoosung flinched. The whole left side of the young boy's jaw was darkening red, swelling too. 

"God, Cylus, what happened?" Jaehee asked worriedly, fishing some ice out from the nearest water pitcher to press it to Cylus's cheek.

"It's that jerk, Ryder. We had to do one-on-one and the jerk pummeled me! He's five years older than me, plus, he's a fucking gorilla."

Yoosung looked in the direction where Cylus was glaring, and saw a large man with dark hair and bulging muscles crack his knuckles and grin happily.

"I'm gonna kill him..." Jaehee muttered under her breath, and Yoosung remembered that Jaehee was the head of training. 

Yoosung looked at the floor, not sure what to do... what to say... He was usually pretty awkward in general, but the tension had grown now and he felt pressured to say something. Thankfully, Jaehee spoke up again.

"How was your training, Yoosung?"

Yoosung groaned, and suddenly, things were better, and he was thankful. He had witnessed too much of that tension in the Courtroom. 

Jaehee and Cylus listened to Yoosung recount the torture of training, laughing as he told them about it with open expressions and reenacting different scenes with exaggerated flamboyancy.

As people began to trickle away from the tables, Vanderwood approached Yoosung, holding two small baskets. 

"Gather some lunch for our patients. Not too much; we don't want them puking." 

Yoosung nodded and said goodbye to Jaehee and Cylus, who were getting up as well, and started putting leftover food in his basket, avoiding sugary things.

He met Vanderwood at the hallway, and they walked down to the infirmary together, talking about their plans for the rest of the afternoon. 

...

"Find his back."

Yoosung sat on a stool next to Emille, a pregnant woman who lay in one of the infirmary's beds, stethoscope on, the flat metal piece pressed to her bare stomach. Emille was from Tannon, the kingdom run by the unknown High Justice, and was very pretty, with dark brown skin and straight black hair. She spoke with deep, flowery voice that left a hum through Yoosung's hand when his fingers accidentally skimmed her bulbous stomach. 

"You'll hear the baby's heartbeat from his back," Vanderwood said softly, and repositioned Yoosung's hand to the left. Suddenly, Yoosung could hear a quick pulsing thump from the stethoscope. He jumped a little and Vanderwood and Emille laughed, watching as Yoosung's face split into a smile. 

"His name is Aubin. After his father," Emille murmured, and her voice was foggy through the stethoscope. 

"Hello, Aubin," Yoosung cooed under his breath. He didn't notice Saeran enter the room and come to stand next to him. He just stayed fixed to the sound of the tiny heartbeat, grinning.

" _Cute,_ " Saeran thought to himself.

When Yoosung saw the shadow and looked up, he nearly fell off his stool.

"Saeran!" 

"Hey. Jaehee told me you wanted to go outside. Vanderwood, I'm gonna take him. You'll manage, I'm sure."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't take him too often though, he's good at this."

Saeran looked down at the still-flustered Yoosung and smirked, "I had no doubts. Bye, Emille." 

The woman waved, Yoosung handed Vanderwood the stethoscope, picked up his medical books, and followed Saeran out the door. 

Saeran turned right at the infirmary door, down the hallway that lead away from the Main Hall. Yoosung had noticed a staircase at the end of the hallway earlier, and now they were walking towards it, Yoosung's heart hammering at the thought of being outside again. 

They walked up the stairs together, and Yoosung saw that they lead to a heavy-looking metal door with rubber insulation around the edges. Yoosung placed his books on the steps and waited as Saeran wrenched the door open. 

A cold blast of wind hit the two men full-on and Yoosung's eyes widened. He looked to Saeran for permission, and when the leader nodded, Yoosung lept out the door, whooping loudly, bending down and flinging snow up to the bright blue sky, breathless at the beauty of the pure white and blue contrast of the horizon. 

Saeran watched from the doorway, smiling to himself as Yoosung romped around, laughing as the snow clung to his clothes, not minding the cold. 

Yoosung was shivering soon, but he didn't care as he flopped down in the snow, feeling it compact underneath him. 

"Snow," he whispered, and giggled, sitting up and shaking the snow from his hair. His fingertips were getting numb, but he wanted to stay outside for hours more. He looked around him, and saw the dome of Aithne on the horizon, and rocky mountains covered in snow towering up behind it. 

To the left, he finally saw Calida, the kingdom where V was... It was quite literally a castle, with white-peaked turrets and everything. Yoosung grimaced but didn't let it get to him.

Instead, Yoosung looked back to Saeran, "Is snow edible?" He asked loudly.

"Yeah, as far as we know."

Yoosung scooped a big pile up with his bare hands and stuck out his tongue, tentatively tasting it.  _It's just cold water..._  Yoosung opened his mouth and took a large 'bite'. He giggled as it melted in his mouth, but now his fingers were freezing.

Yoosung stood reluctantly and tried brushing himself off, but the snow was melting into large wet spots due to his intense body heat, and he was feeling very cold. 

"Come on in. You're gonna freeze," Saeran called, and Yoosung pouted but retreated to the fortress. Saeran closed the door behind him before facing the blond. 

"Oh jeez, you're covered in snow. You'll catch a cold and you don't have another set of clothes... Come with me. I have some spare." 

"Really? Okay... Sorry."

"No problem. Don't want the doctor getting sick." Saeran winked. The two walked back down the stairs, past the infirmary, through the main hall, and then down the hallway to where Yoosung remembered Saeran's office was. They entered the office, which was just as cluttered as the night before, and Saeran led Yoosung to a door that the blond hadn't noticed before on the wall to the right. 

The door opened to a large room, with a bed in the back, a red sofa, and a fireplace, as well as a dresser and another door that was left ajar that held a small bathroom. Yoosung remembered how embarrassing it was asking Vanderwood where the bathrooms were earlier that afternoon.

Saeran crossed the room to his dresser and began rummaging through the messy drawers. He muttered to himself as Yoosung looked around, finding himself by a bookshelf that held ancient-looking books and loose piles of papers with messy scrawls of black ink wedged in uneven lines. 

A small bottle of light amber liquid was placed on the top of the shelf, and Yoosung picked it up and unscrewed the lid. He inhaled, and closed his eyes in momentary bliss.

Yoosung would've never taken Saeran as one who wore cologne, but as he melted into the scent, he realized that it was the only way someone could smell so nice. The cologne smelled like fresh mint, vanilla, cinnamon, coffee, and apples all rolled into one, and Yoosung thought that he could be happy smelling it for the rest of his life.

The sound of a drawer shutting snapped Yoosung out of his daze, and he quickly capped the cologne and turned around. 

Saeran held a dark grey shirt and maroon loose-fitting cotton sweats, which reminded Yoosung of the harem pants that some of the women in the Northern district wore, their tattoos peeking up from the waistband of the soft fabric.

"These should fit you, and they've been washed recently."

"Thanks," Yoosung said quietly, accepting the clothes. It only then occurred to him how he was supposed to change. 

Yoosung had always been self-conscious of his small frame, but he could usually hide his insecurities pretty well. The Cold had unintentionally made him doubt his physique again, with their broad chests, and toned stomachs. He wanted to be strong like that...

Saeran turned to stoke the fire, and Yoosung slipped out of his pants quickly, and pulled on the soft cotton sweats, and then began taking off his shirt. That's when Saeran turned around. 

Yoosung gulped, and blush crept onto his face. Saeran froze, then slowly turned back around, heart thumping.  _Well okay then_. 

When he was done changing, Yoosung thanked Saeran quietly, then slipped out of the room. As soon as the door closed, he tugged at his hair in embarrassment and frustration. He then realized that the shirt smelled like the cologne he had found on Saeran's bookcase and cautiously lifted the fabric to his nose before inhaling deeply, smiling to himself.

Yoosung returned to the infirmary and read his medical books while Vanderwood sipped tea until dinner time.

During dinner, Saeran ate with the Cold, but he and Yoosung never made eye contact, and Yoosung felt his cheeks burn every time he glanced in the leader's direction.

However, simple shirtlessness in front of one person didn't prepare him at all for showering. About half of the men in his dorm showered at night, including Cylus, in a long room with dozens of showerheads protruding every few feet. 

Everyone undressed casually, laughing and talking like it was no big deal. Yoosung gulped and did his best to hide himself, but Cylus laughed at him and led him to the showers, totally shameless. 

Yoosung stood under the too-hot stream of water, straight from the boiler room, and breathed through the streams running down his back. The water made his blond hair turn brown, and he flicked it away from his face, self-consciously rubbing sudsy water on himself. 

When he was done, Yoosung and Cylus wrapped towels around themselves and changed into soft sweatpants that served as pajamas before talking together on the top bunk. Cylus's bruise had darkened and spread slightly. It looked like it hurt, but Cylus pushed away Yoosung's worry.

Soon, someone went around and blew out all the lanterns, and Yoosung returned to his bottom bunk, sliding under the crisp white sheets. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, Yoosung reached down to the small basket by his bed that held his clothes and felt for the soft fabric of Saeran's shirt. He lay on his side and held the shirt to his nose, inhaling slowly. 

Yoosung fell asleep smiling.


	10. Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> punching bags, bonfires, birch bark, and a kiss

The next day in training with Saeran, Yoosung was using a punching bag.

"Huh- OOF!" Yoosung grunted as the flat top of his foot hit the hard leather, standing on one leg, arms in a block.

"Good," Saeran murmured, drawing out the middle. He walked around Yoosung and the punching bag slowly, his tank top clinging to his muscled chest.   
Yoosung stepped back, and then hit again with three considered punches. His knuckles were raw, but not bleeding yet.   
Yoosung pushed himself into a rhythm: step forward, punch punch, step back, breath, step forward, punch punch, step back, breath.

"Harder," Saeran said strictly, and Yoosung landed a heavy punch on the bag, before stepping back, hissing in pain as blood began to seep from his knuckles.

"Break," Saeran said, and Yoosung flopped to the floor. Saeran handed him a cup of water and Yoosung drank it thirstily, some of it spilling down his chin to his chest, mixing with the sweat that was already there.

"Here, let me wrap your hands," Saeran knelt by Yoosung, pulling out a roll of elastic bandages. He picked up Yoosung's wrist and began winding the bandage around his knuckles.

Yoosung, weary, liked the feel of Saeran's hands cradling his own, even though the leader's skin was cracked and dry with callouses, but as gentle as possible on the blonde's raw skin.

"Can we go outside again today?"

Saeran looked up at Yoosung's light purple eyes and sighed, moving to his other hand.

"You'll need a coat and proper warm clothes. I can't take you, but you can ask someone else to, or just go by yourself. I trust you won't run away."

Yoosung wanted to pout, "Why can't you take me?" he murmured.

Saeran sighed, and tied the bandage before standing up, "I have to go out scouting for banished rebels like you."

Yoosung perked up. "Can I come?"

The leader shook his head, exhaling a sigh, helping Yoosung up before placing a large hand on his forehead. "Your body temperature is still too high. You'll get hypothermia if you're out for more than a couple hours."

This time, Yoosung actually  _did_  pout, knowing full well that he looked like a toddler.

"Why are you so upset? There are plenty of other people for you to chill with. Go make some friends. And I'll be back a few hours after dinner."

"That's late though!"

"Since when do you care about my sleep schedule?" Saeran retorted bluntly, brushing off Yoosung's pleas.

Yoosung shut up and exhaled through his nose, frowning.

"Now let's try again. Hit with your back and shoulder muscles, use that strength to power your fist. And don't be afraid, so stop punching so weakly."

The criticism fueled Yoosung's agitated state and he stepped forward quickly, hitting the bag with a force that made it swing slightly.   
Saeran smirked.

...

That night, Yoosung ate the potatoes and steak with vigor, Cyrus rambling on and on about the ice caves he had searched, Jaehee getting herself into a burping contest with a man named Ajax, and triumphantly slapping him across the cheek when she won.

The tournament was already being prepared for, a hand-to-hand combat event that was scheduled for two days later. The contest consisted of whittling down to the strongest fighters via one-on-one fights, and the strongest faces Saeran.

"No one ever beats Boss," Jaehee told Yoosung proudly. She seemed smug as she scanned the other tables for competitors.

After dinner, Yoosung joined the rest of the Cold outside for a bonfire in the snow, behind the fortress so Aithne and Calida wouldn't see the light. The Cold laughed and sang songs that even Yoosung knew, and the red and orange flames danced with them, whoops and hollers echoing off the cavernous sky.

Yoosung wore a warm leather coat, and he and Cylus laid out wide pieces of thick white birch tree bark next to each other to lay down and watch the brilliant stars. There was no moon (it hadn't risen yet) so the only sources of light were the fire and the millions of pinpricks of silver stars, dancing in Yoosung's vision as he fell asleep.

 

...

 

Saeran trudged toward the fortress, legs shaking from exertion. He was surprised to see that the majority of the Cold was outside, talking around a fire. Some people lay on long slabs of tree bark so they didn't have to sit on the snow.

"Saeran!" Someone called, and a couple of people by the fire stood up to greet him. As Saeran grew closer, he noticed the familiar yellow hair of Yoosung laying on a piece of bark by Cylus.

"Damn kid still hasn't adjusted his temp yet," he muttered and promptly picked Yoosung up. "Hey guys, I've gotta bring this crazy bastard inside, and then I'll be right back. Save some booze," Saeran called over his shoulder, cradling Yoosung to his chest.

A few "Yep!"'s shouted back to him in return.

Saeran huffed through the metal door and down the stairs, exhausted from his hike today, but undeterred by Yoosung, who weighed barely anything.

"Are you even eating?" he asked the sleeping boy incredulously, keeping his voice low nonetheless, as to not wake Yoosung.

Yoosung's skin was as fiery hot as Saeran remembered, but he knew better than to believe it was a fever. People from Aithne just had naturally higher body temperatures. He used to too...

"If you don't cool down soon, I'm going to fling you into the snow myself so you can adjust," he muttered as he made his way to the infirmary, carrying the small body of Yoosung just like how he had three days prior.

Upon arrival, Saeran took one look at Vanderwood and rolled his eyes. The coordinator was fast asleep with a bottle of wine beside him. "Lightweight," Saeran scoffed.

He laid Yoosung on an infirmary bed and felt his forehead. Saeran tilted his head to the side, looking at Yoosung's soft features. He had never been so close to Yoosung before, and he tried to ignore the quiet breaths escaping Yoosung's lips and tickling Saeran's neck.

Cute button nose... cute soft cheeks... cute pink lips...

Not really understanding what he was doing or why he was doing it, Saeran leaned down and pressed his lips to the blonde's forehead.

Yoosung's skin burned beneath Saerans lips, but the leader didn't care. He liked the feel. It made his fingers feel tingly and his stomach flip.

Then, Saeran realized what he was doing and jerked back, away from Yoosung, wiping his lips with the back of his hand even though the tingles still remained. What the hell was he doing?!

Saeran backed up, flustered and heart racing. What the fuck?! He had known Yoosung for what, 3 days? And not to mention, he wasn't gay. What would the rest of the Cold think?

Saeran ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands as if they'd answer his questions, confused and overwhelmed.

With that, Saeram turned around and walked as fast as he could out of the infirmary.

 

...

 

Yoosung shifted on the bed, opening his eyes. Confused, he looked around. Why was he in the infirmary? Last night when he had fallen asleep in front of the bonfire, did someone bring him inside? Who? And why not bring him to his dorm?

Yoosung sat up, rubbing his head. He felt cold. Slipping out of bed, Yoosung padded over to Emille's bed, who was already up, caressing her giant baby-belly.

"Mornin', Emille," Yoosung yawned, his voice groggy. Her eyes flashed excitedly to him, a small smile curling on her lips.

"Good morning, Yoosung," she said, and gazed steadily into Yoosung's eyes, her own chocolate optics seemingly hiding something, but poking fun at Yoosung for not knowing.

Yoosung brushed off the feeling and sat down on her bed, "How are you feeling? Was he kicking last night?"

"I am feeling fine. Aubin kicked last night, and I think he left a bruise, but he's coming out soon so I suppose some loss of sleep is worth it."

  
"You can tell that?" Yoosung asked, genuinely interested.

"I know he is ready," Emille hummed to her stomach.

"Let me check that bruise..." Yoosung said nervously, and carefully lifted Emille's shirt from her stomach.

A dark bruise was already forming, and Yoosung nodded. "He's a strong one, that's for sure. Aubin's a fighter..."

Emille grinned, and Yoosung stood, smiling. "I'm gonna go grab something to eat, do you want anything?"

"No, Mr. Vanderwood brought me breakfast about an hour ago. He told me to let you sleep."

"Oh shit, I'm late!" Yoosung said loudly, eyes widening, and waved to Emille before dashing out the door.

Emille watched him with a wide smile. Last night, her baby had kicked her, waking her to see the Cold's leader kiss Yoosung's forehead, and then watch as he ran away. No one else knew but Saeran and her, and she wasn't planning on saying anything, but her knowledge of this made her more than just a pregnant Cold woman... she had a new secret to keep. 


	11. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some deep apologies

Yoosung didn't see Saeran for the rest of the day.

Jaehee was jittery, nervous, worried, and it set the rest of the Cold on edge as well, especially as the training room wasn't open due to the tournament. Because of this, the resistance couldn't practice and had too much extra energy.

On top of that, Vanderwood was out to get medical supplies at a drop point from double-agents inside the wall, so his orderly presence was missing, leaving people verging on chaotic.

This also meant that Yoosung manned the infirmary by himself, and was constantly changing bandages, bringing food to patients, and finding time to study his required medical books from Vanderwood.

The lunchroom was quiet, but they ate a lot, something the kitchen staff called "Stress eating", so Yoosung helped to make food, the boiling hot water pouring over his hands as he washed the dishes, his pale skin turning red. 

Most people just went back to their dorms after dinner, but Yoosung stayed up in the infirmary, trying to read. Thankfully, Vanderwood arrived later that night, at around 11:00, hauling a backpack of medical supplies.

Yoosung slipped away as Vanderwood checked on the patients, heading to his dorm to shower. It was slightly less embarrassing this time, but Yoosung still hid himself.

As he was changing, Yoosung spotted Saeran's clothes in his basket by his bed, and smiled sightly. An excuse to go search for Saeran!

Grinning, Yoosung picked up the clothes, folded them as best he could, and then walked out of the dorm, hair still wet. 

...

Not in his office, not in the kitchen, not in the infirmary sick... Yoosung frowned, shoulders drooping.

The training room? At this hour? Yoosung decided it was worth a try. He walked barefoot down the hallway to the training room, and noticed that it was already set up for the tournament tomorrow. 

And there was Saeran, shirtless, breathing heavy, and angrily heaving his fists at the punching bag. His biceps were flexed and bulging, and his forehead rained sweat. 

His fists hit the leather in deadly succession, every hit sending the bag swinging. Yoosung walked slowly towards Saeran, holding the clothes out like a peace offering. 

"Saeran?" He squeaked.

...

Saeran looked up at the noise and immediately felt his heart plummet.

_Yoosung._

"What are you doing here?" 

_I'm sorry._

"Why aren't you in bed?"

_It's not your fault._

"Give me those."

_I shouldn't have._

Yoosung's eyes grew wide, and he hastily passed the clothes forward, confused at Saeran's hostility.

"Saeran? Are you-?"

"Get out of my way. And leave me alone."

_I don't want to hurt you._

Heart throbbing, Saeran pushed past Yoosung, exiting the Training Room as fast as he could.

Yoosung stood there, stunned and hurt. What had he done? Saeran had seemed so kind, so open to him earlier. What was this? 

Yoosung shook it off, dismissing it as a bad day, but the feeling of sadness and anger still settled uncomfortably in his stomach.

As Yoosung walked back to the dorm, a kitchen worker called out to him. 

"Newbie! Wanna play darts?" 

Yoosung turned and forced a smile, shaking his head slightly, "No thanks, I'm-"

"Aw come on! One round won't kill your sleep schedule." The warm kitchen light flooded over Yoosung as he hesitantly stepped into the kitchen. That's when he noticed. The picture.

On the far wall, across from his and the group of men, was a large poster. A woman with long blonde hair, smiling sweetly, like sugary poison, and a man next to her, with teal hair and a vague expression. 

Memories hit Yoosung like a brick, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. After all these years... V still looked the same. 

Except, of course, for the dart pinned to his forehead. Yoosung gasped for breath and felt his knees weaken, on the verge of tears. 

He stuttered for an excuse, not forming one in time before stumbling out of the kitchen, running towards his hallway but his foot caught on the leg of a chair and he fell forward, smacking his face on the table, scrambling to get up, and then sprinting to his dorm, tears streaming down his face and breath heaving. 

_V. He abandoned me. He left me._

Yoosung gulped, and tried to catch his breath but suddenly he was underwater and V was there, staring at him with dead eyes, and then there was Saeran too, his sharp words cutting scissor-holes in Yoosung's heart, and everything was dark and foggy, like Yoosung was 8 again and was wandering down Mortem avenue and he saw a Dweller for the first time and everything that was ever good fell out of his being, and it was just dark now. 

The air was thick and his throat closed up, and suddenly Yoosung snapped back, and he inhaled a strangled breath, sweet oxygen brushing into his lungs, making him cough, harder and harder. 

His head hurt and he just wanted to lie down. Everything was too much. Yoosung was thinking about his house again, and his mothers thin face, crazed eyes, and lanky arms reaching out to Yoosung even when he wouldn't approach her, for she smelled like smoke and bad things. 

His father would come home and order Yoosung out of his bed so his mother had a place to sleep instead of the floor. Then his father would leave again, only his smell of coal lingering. 

Yoosung left for work at the palace when he was old enough, leaving his home behind, sending money home every month. His mom wasn't much of a mom, and his dad was hardy there to count, but they were family, and they deserved life just as much as he, a broken, beaten-down teenager did.

Yoosung felt his heartbeat slow, but his tears didn't stop. He cried silently in the hallway, face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

When his tears were only saltwater streaks on his face, Yoosung stumbled into the dorm room and to his bed, ignoring Cylus's worried looks. 

He was fine.

He had to be fine.

But even so,  this time, even the calming scent of Saeran's cologne couldn't sooth Yoosung, and he couldn't smell it anyways.

Yoosung fell into a restless sleep.


	12. Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the tournament and strong sae-bae

Yoosung felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. 

"Yoosung? C'mon, the tournament's today!" 

The blond curled in a ball, turning away. "Leave me alone, Cylus," he mumbled. 

"Nope! Get up." 

Yoosung felt like crying again. He slowly lifted his head to face his younger bunkmate, who's bedhead was as wild and messy as ever. Cylus's eyes widened. 

"Shit, dude, what happened to  _you_." 

Yoosung closed his eyes and sighed. "Let's just go," he said quietly, and got out of bed, following his dorm into the hallway. 

Cylus followed silently behind Yoosung, worried eyes watching as his friend slumped. Something was definitely wrong...

The cafeteria was more rowdy than usual, due to the tournament. Men and women flexed in front of their peers, trying to intimidate. 

Yoosung kept his head down, sitting silently at the table while Jaehee and Cylus chatted excitedly.

 _Am I supposed to hate V too? I don't know how to feel..._  

Yoosung didn't look up when he heard Saeran enter the room. How dare he?

 Saeran's voice ricocheted off the walls, filling Yoosung's heart with dread, "Good morning, Cold brothers and sisters." A roar met his ears in return and he grinned, forcing his eyes to avert Yoosung. 

Saeran's logic was stupid. He thought if he avoided Yoosung, he would just stop being so... gay. And stop having feelings for Yoosung, or whatever it was that he was feeling. Yoosung shouldn't want to get caught up in a mess like Saeran. That would mean Saeran having to admit his past. And he wasn't ready to face Saeyoung again. Not yet. Not ever. Saeran winced internally, hoping that this strange infatuation with Yoosung would disappear soon. 

"Welcome to the morning of the Tournament!" Everyone cheered, and Saeran forced a smirk, "Anyone can participate, but keep in mind, whoever wins... will face me!" Several mock threats flew at Saeran, calling for him to watch his back, they were coming. He grinned and shook his head, laughing it off. "I have an announcement, though! Due to requests by our dear Vanderwood, we're gonna have to limit our tournaments from now on. Only when unanimously voted for, will we hold one, as we don't need any more broken bones and bruises than we already have." There were a few boos, but most accepted the new conditions. 

Breakfast was fast, and Vanderwood approached Yoosung as he was following the crowd which was filing into the training room for the start of the tournament. 

"No," Vanderwood caught the silent Yoosung's arm, "We wait in the infirmary for the losers. I'll let you watch the final match, but you have a job to do. Also, what happened to your face?" Without pausing for Yoosung' answer, he rushed on, "Come on, let's go treat you first."

 Missing the tournament was fine with Yoosung; he didn't want to watch anyways, so he obediently followed Vanderwood to the infirmary, lifting his hand to poke at his cheek, which throbbed. 

Ten minutes later, as Yoosung sat with Emille, the first loser stumbled in, a grin on his bloodied face, large stomach bruising. Yoosung and Vanderwood quickly helped him to a bed and began treating him and getting details of his fight. 

"And then Ajax was like WHAM WHAM and poor ol' me is down. Ajax's a ruthless one, that's for sho'... knew he was mighty ferocious as soon as I seen him."

The man was then given an impromptu grammar lesson by an irritated Vanderwood, rolling his eyes. 

...

Patients began coming in at about ten-minute intervals after that, and Yoosung became exhausted quickly, running back and forth, Vanderwood barking at the 'patients' not to call the young blond pet names, which made Yoosung flush with embarrassment. 

Most injuries could be treated quickly, and they were just put in the beds to rest, but Yoosung sprung into action when a lanky teenager slumped into the infirmary, tears streaming down his face as his wrist hung limply, many of the patients respectfully applauding the teen for his bravery of facing a man named Dalton, who demolished the poor boy without any sense of mercy. 

"Usually he's all in good fun," the boy told Yoosung as he wrapped his wrist with gauze, "But some people just take the tournament way too far. We get like savages, we do, honest. It's hard to look at people the same when they fight. But the tournaments are important. We learn about ourselves, what we need to work on, understanding the pain and how to deal with it. We had a tournament outside once when I was a kid... My dad told me about it, cuz I can't remember it too well... That was before Saeran, and our leader wanted us to understand how to respect the cold, and not to be careless. 11 people got hypo... hypo..."

"Hypothermia?"

"Yeah, that. Tournaments weed us apart, and we get stronger every time. Boredom is more dangerous than a broken wrist, eh?"

Yoosung nodded slowly, and finished cementing the cast, molding it to the boy's arm carefully. 

"Thank you for telling me," he said quietly and the boy nodded. 

"What happened to you, doc?" He asked, and Yoosung frowned slightly, surprised, "Didja get hit too?" he joked. 

"Aheh. No, I... I tripped." This was the truth, even if it was embarrassing and much less manly than getting punched.

"Jeez. You clumsy?"

"A bit," Yoosung replied awkwardly. 

"Yoosung, I need you over here!" Vanderwood called, and Yoosung took the opportunity to escape the now stiff conversation.

"Make sure not to get that wet," he told the boy, and then walked to Vanderwood.

...

"No, I-"

"Yoosung, seriously, go watch the final match, and then come back and tell me everything. You've worked hard, and it's only for a few minutes. Saeran usually fights quickly." 

"Mr. Vanderwood-"

"Go on."

Yoosung, defeated, walked out of the infirmary and reluctantly walked towards the sound of the cheers, coming from the training room. This was the last thing he wanted to be doing, but he had no choice. 

Yoosung slipped silently through the door and looked around. Large stacks of crates and boxes provided the seats for the spectators, creating a bowl-like arena for one of the boxing rings that had been pulled into the center of the floor. People were crammed together, shouting, laughing, and gazing intently at the competitors. 

The two were stationed on either side of the ring. One was a man, giant, burly, and breathing heavily, sweat gleaming on his muscled chest, which was a dark tan. On the other side of the ring was Saeran, chatting casually with Jaehee, a small towel around his neck, grinning. 

Yoosung carefully climbed up onto a nearby box next to some members around his age, all laughing together. He perched awkwardly to the side and looked down, frowning at his situation. 

Did he have a right to be mad at Saeran? Yes. Did he deserve an explanation? Definitely. But how was Saeran supposed to apologize if Yoosung kept avoiding him? Hm.

Yoosung's mind kept drifting back to V, and the men in the kitchen throwing darts at him. Saeran could apologize and they could be okay again... But could Yoosung ever forgive V? For abandoning him? For leaving him alone with his parents? 

What had V done... Was he married to Rika? Was she the queen?  _Was he the king of Calida_? 

All these thoughts were making Yoosung's head hurt, and, thankfully, this was the exact moment when Jaehee climbed up into the boxing ring and held up a hand for silence.

"Last match!" she shouted, "Dalton versus Saeran!" Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Yoosung sat up, gazing down at the ring. Dalton, presumably the man who had crushed the boy from the infirmary's wrist, grinned triumphantly, climbing into the ring, flexing his biceps.

Saeran grinned as he slipped into the ring too, and tossed the towel around his neck to the ground. 

Jaehee stood between them, holding two flags, one black, one white. She murmured a few words to the two of them, and then raised the black flag, jumping out of the way, "BEGIN!"

The two men sprung into action, and Yoosung could hardly keep up, watching as Dalton struck out with powerful fists, but Saeran dodged and ducked each deftly, grinning the whole time. 

The match went on for several minutes, both men each getting their fair share of punches. It was then that Saeran quickly looked up at the stands... and saw Yoosung. The blonde sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards the ring, eyes wide.

Saeran's distraction was a flaw. Dalton sprang towards him and landed a punch on Saeran's stomach then sent him stumbling back, falling into the stretchy wires of the barriers that surrounded the ring. He coughed once, heaving, but ducked out of the way when Dalton went to hit him again and somehow slipped behind the giant man, then kicking him hard in the back with enough force to have Dalton sprawl forward on his stomach. 

Immediately, the crowd started counting down from 15, on their feet, excitedly cheering. "15, 14, 13!" Saeran immediately stepped forward and pressed his hands to Dalton, pushing him down, one on the man's head and the other on his shoulder. 

"12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7!" Saeran looked to be having a hard time, and his breath came in quick bursts, but his biceps didn't fail him. 

"6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" Jaehee held up the white flag, and Saeran staggered back, away from Dalton, who immediately got up, shaking hands forcefully with the leader. 

Saeran fell to his knees.


	13. Care for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yoosung tends to saeran after the fight, they go out to see the stars, fluffy!

  
  
  
Yoosung lurched from his seat, his worry for Saeran overriding his anger. Jaehee was already there, kneeling next to the leader, her face worried. Dalton inched away, looking guiltily at his fists. The crowd became a sea of whispers.

Yoosung and Jaehee lifted Saeran's arms over their shoulders and he struggled to stand, white hair plastered to his forehead. Yoosung placed a cold hand on Saeran's torso and gently pressed against an area, pulling away calmly when Saeran cried out.

"Feels bruised, but not fractured," he murmured to Jaehee as they carried Saeran to the infirmary. "It'll heal by itself but it's gonna take some time, and it's gonna be hard to breathe and move too much."

Vanderwood met them by the doorway and Saeran, still conscious, groaned as he was helped into an infirmary bed.

"Yoosung, help him. Jaehee, come with me."

"But-!" Yoosung couldn't even finish protesting before Vanderwood and Jaehee were out the door to go calm the Cold. Most of the patients were asleep, but some gazed worriedly at Saeran and Yoosung. The young apprentice felt uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, so he closed the curtains around Saeran.

The leader's bright eyes flickered and he grabbed Yoosung's wrist, "Need to talk to you," he wheezed. Fuck his attempt of losing his feelings! He didn't care... He could like Yoosung if he wanted to. Avoiding Yoosung wasn't even going to work in the first place.

"Not now..." Yoosung said softly, and gave Saeran a cup of water as he hooked him up to an IV with medicine, nervously poking and securing the needle to Saeran's forearm, who didn't even wince. "When you feel better," Yoosung murmured, and slipped outside the curtains.

Saeran sighed and sat back against the pillow, his ribs aching painfully. It's okay... He'd apologize when he woke up...

...

Yoosung busied himself until lunchtime, in a slightly better mood than before. He and Vanderwood told the restless Cold that Saeran would be okay, but he'd need a couple weeks before he could fight and do much activity first.

Dalton was extremely repentant, trying to enter the infirmary twice in order to apologize to Saeran, but the leader was still sleeping. Yoosung brought patients food, even if they were perfectly capable of getting up, and changed bandages before shooing them out of the infirmary, also managing to constantly check if Saeran was awake again yet.

Emille hid her smirk well every time Yoosung went to see Saeran, expecting Aubin any day. As the afternoon drifted on, only about ten patients in the small hospital remained. Emille, tired of Yoosung's restlessness, sighed and got up, walking out to the laundry room, tired of feeling useless.

...

Yoosung entered Saeran's wall of curtains for what seemed like the thousandth time, one last glance before he went to his dorm room. However, Saeran was awake, reading a book from the small stand next to him that also held his cup of water.

His eyes immediately flashed to Yoosung, who jumped slightly, surprised, nearly dropping his own stack of medical books.

"Hey," Saeran said carefully.

Blinking, Yoosung stayed still, mouth opening and closing like a fish before he was able to squeak out a greeting in return. Yoosung set his books on the stand next to Saeran and stood awkwardly, mind fumbling for the questions.

"Is he awake?" Yoosung heard Vanderwood squawk from the other side of the room.

"Yeah," Yoosung called back shakily.

"I owe you an explanation, Yoosung," Saeran said evenly.  _That_  was what Yoosung had been waiting for, "Sit."

Yoosung perched nervously on the side of Saeran's bed and looked down.

"I'm sorry I was so angry last night. It wasn't your fault, I was just being an ass."

"It's okay."

"What happened to your eye?"

"I tripped."

"Yeah right. Who punched you? I'll give them a friendly reminder not to do it again."

"No, I'm telling the truth," Yoosung frowned slightly.

"Okay, fine. Have it your way."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Saeran spoke again.

"Yoosung would you come closer for a moment?"

Yoosung looked up at Saeran and leaned forward. Without warning, Saeran's arms were suddenly around him, pulling him to his chest. Saeran winced as Yoosung's hands brushed his ribs as he placed an arm on either side of Saeran to support himself, but bit back the pain and tugged Yoosung closer, until he was practically on top of Saeran.

"Saeran...?"

"Shush."

Saeran closed his eyes and inhaled, wincing at Yoosung's stiffness to his touch. When he let his grip loosen, Yoosung sat back, eyes wide. Saeran merely smiled sheepishly, and shrugged.

"Let's go outside tomorrow night."

Bewildered, Yoosung climbed off the bed, arms tingling and cheeks flushed, nodded once, and then slipped away.

Saeran smiled hopefully to himself.

...

The next day, things were back to normal. Since Saeran was unable to teach, Yoosung trained with Jaehee and a small group of other Cold members. It made him self-conscious, but Yoosung tried his best to show that he was not, in fact, a weakling, just clumsy.

Jaehee looked proud, so Yoosung took that as a good sign, and attacked the punching bag until his muscles throbbed.

Things were surprisingly painless, no matter the awkward hug they'd shared the day before.

Vanderwood and Yoosung kicked out the patients that were done healing, grinning as he protested that their heads hurt or that they needed more bandages.

"Lazy scum! Go get to work! I checked your head yesterday, and it didn't hurt then!"

...

Night came surprisingly fast.

When Vanderwood retired, and Emille watched from her bed, Yoosung walked quickly to Saeran's bed, helping him carefully to his feet, and then walking in comfortable silence to the fortress's exit, up the stairs to the heavy door.

Before opening it, Saeran turned to Yoosung. "Close your eyes," he instructed softly, and Yoosung did without hesitation, eager to be outside again.

He felt Saeran's long fingers curl around his wrist, and then pull him into the cold. The snow crunched underneath the two boys' feet as they walked forward, the cold breeze wrapping invitingly around them, refreshing and alive.

Yoosung heard the door close behind him and Saeran kept walking, about 20 paces or so, before stopping and lifting a finger to Yoosung's chin, tilting it up.

"You can open your eyes now," he whispered, and as Yoosung obliged, his mouth dropped open in awe.

The sky was alive with light. Colors danced around each other, purples, blues, greens, pinks.

Yoosung gasped and grabbed Saeran's hand, interlacing their fingers. Saeran felt his face flush, and he glanced sideways at Yoosung, who seemed otherwise preoccupied gazing at the night sky.

"It's beautiful... why was I kept from this for so long?" Yoosung asked as his eyes skipped to the distant dome of Aithne.

"Hey, Saeran?"

"Hmm?"

"Can... can we try that hug again?"

Saeran looked quickly to Yoosung, and immediately fell into his wide, velvety violet eyes, which shone with the sky's light.

Slowly, Saeran pulled Yoosung closer, avoiding pressing their torsos together too hard, and this time, Yoosung's hands looped up and around Saeran's neck, pressing his face into the taller man's shoulder, breathing in his cologne.

"I miss training with you already," Yoosung murmured randomly.

Saeran only tightened his arms around Yoosung's back, not trusting his mouth to give an appropriate answer to the topic. He'd probably just spout some nonsense about how he 'wanted to stay like this forever', which was true, but from his viewpoint, decidedly cliche and cringe-worthy.

The night wasn't as cold as it usually was, so Yoosung relished in the fact that he could stay out for longer, gazing at the sky from his place in Saeran's arms. It was comfortable and  _warm._

A while later, Yoosung began to shiver. He pulled away and smiled apologetically.

"Let's head in," Saeran said softly, and they walked back inside together. 


	14. Aubin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emille has aubin, yoosung and saeran plan a hike

The next morning, Vanderwood wasn't in the infirmary.

"He said he had to run some errands. Something about soap," Emille told Yoosung over breakfast.

The Cold was back to normal though, despite Vanderwood's absence. Saeran was up and walking, and often caught Yoosung's eye at breakfast, instantly grinning.

After another group training session with Jaehee, Yoosung and Saeran chatted in the infirmary, the leader lounging on one of the static white beds, absentmindedly running a hand over his bruised torso.

Throughout the day, the infirmary was lazy, the warm sun streaming from the skylights in the ceiling, making everyone drowsy. Until Emille's voice broke the calm silence.

"Hey, Yoosung?" The blonde looked up from his medical book, glancing at Emille, who was suddenly very alert and stiff.

"Yeah?"

"My water just broke."

Yoosung sat, blinking, then sprung from his seat, rushing over to Emille. Saeran sat up, wide-eyed, in his bed, slowly slipped out from under the sheets as his eyes stayed glued to Emille's stomach.

"Vanderwood isn't here, and I don't think anyone else but Yoosung can deliver. I'll go get help though," Saeran said quickly, and Yoosung nodded, gulped down his fear, and knelt next to Emille.

...

One hour later, as women huddled around her, talking in soft whispers, Emille went into labor. Her dark skin was dappled with sweat, and Yoosung was terrified. Saeran stood next to him, encouraging Emille, holding her hand.

"I can't do this," Yoosung whispered, trying to keep his breathing under control. Saeran looked sharply down at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Keep breathing," his low voice coaxed, and Yoosung felt his head go light, then inhaling deeply, sputtering as Emille's screams tore at his heart.

"You're the only one who can do this, Sungie," Emille managed to gasp, and Yoosung smiled weakly.

...

Aubin was born with a healthy wail, smooth skin matching his eyes, the color of coffee beans.

As soon as Emille was settled with his in her bed, and Yoosung was cleaned up, Saeran lead him out into the hallway, out of sight from the patients, and Yoosung immediately collapsed into Saeran arms, which were already open to catch him, cologne and warmth securing him, leading his brain to the only thought of  _Saeran._

"I didn't- I've never-,"

"It's okay."

The leader's voice hummed soft and low, one hand pressing Yoosung's head to his shoulder, the other on his back.

This was different from their embrace the previous night; this was security. Yoosung would never say it out loud but he was certain that  _this_  was where he belonged. Not in Aithne, not in the castle. Here.

His breath slowed and he lifted a hand to Saeran's cheek, stepping away slightly. And then, for some reason that he couldn't understand yet, he pressed his lips to Saeran's cheek, right above his jawline.

Saeran froze, heart hammering. And then Yoosung drew back, smiled shyly, and walked back into the infirmary.   
.  
.  
.  
 _Was this okay?_

...

For the next week, things were normal, bland, and relaxing. Aubin was healthy, and Emille moved from the infirmary to the Family Dorm, a group of her friends cooing over Aubin as she carried him around in a soft pouch she had sewn, secured around her chest.

Saeran and Yoosung made eye-contact as often as they could, mint and violet colliding to make cheeks dust pink with an even mix of admiration and embarrassment.

One night after dinner, Saeran approached a flustered Yoosung and sat down next to him, grinning.

"Hey."

"Hi."  _Blushing, blushing, blushing._

"Wanna go for a hike tomorrow morning with me? There's a trail over a small mountain that's really nice. It'll be short, but fun."

"Sure!" Yoosung's eyes lit up. He would hike the tallest peak with Saeran if the leader did so with him.

"I'll come for you in the morning, alright?" Yoosung smiled and nodded. 


	15. Hike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saeran and yoosung go up a mountain, yoosung spills some deep shit

"Wake up, sleeping beauty." A quiet whisper. Yoosung opened his eyes slowly to meet bright mint irises. "Let's go," Saeran said, grinning, and ambushed Yoosung with a think sweater over his head.

Yoosung sat up, yawned, pulled the sweater on, then laced up his boots before walking with Saeran out of the dorm, the rest of the members not up yet.

Saeran grabbed a small covered basket from the kitchen, and then the two checked in with Vanderwood in the infirmary, climbing the stairs to the door that opened to the morning sky.

It wasn't too cold as Saeran and Yoosung made their way through the snow to the nearest peak, walking in comfortable silence.

The sun had not yet risen, but the eastern horizon was tinged pink and orange, showing that sunlight was soon to follow.

The incline was slow at first, but after 20 minutes, the slope was treacherously steep. The trail was rocky, lined with thin snow, and provided an amazing view of the valley.

The fortress was just a square of brick from here, and Yoosung spotted a few people going out to snowshoe.

A breeze ruffled through their hair as Yoosung and Saeran began to reach the summit of the mountain. The snow up here was deeper, and soft, as it was fresh.

Yoosung sighed in awe at the sunrise, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Saeran, who was looking at Yoosung from the corner of his eye.

The sun was rising now, a gleaming red and orange glow of fire on the horizon. The pinks, oranges, and reds blossomed across the eastern sky, the stars still present in the west, half-moon fading away.

Yoosung was reminded by the colors of something he had read about in the medical books called 'flowers'. Brightly colored plants that had petals of all colors... yet another thing that Yoosung wanted to see, after 'trees' and 'horses'.

"It's so beautiful..." Saeran almost had the courage to reply with "Not as beautiful as you," but couldn't get his lips to say it. "Thanks for showing me this. And everything else. The lights in the sky... the Cold in the first place."  
Yoosung lightly punched Saeran in the shoulder, grinning. Bad move.

In seconds, they were grappling, arms pushing and shoved each other, then reaching out again. Yoosung should've known it was no use; in just a few minutes of dodging and ducking, he was thrown lightly to the soft snow, Saeran pinning him down, hands on his shoulders, grinning triumphantly.

Yoosung breathed fast, shaking his head slightly, and Saeran felt the blonde's heartbeat under his palm.

"I'm never gonna beat you, am I?"

"Nope!" Saeran crowed happily.

It was then that Yoosung realized the suggestive position they were in, Saeran hovering above him, faces close. Yoosung blushed hard and it seemed that Saeran realized it at the same time, and immediately sat back, resting on Yoosung's thighs, cheeks flushed.

"Sorry," he murmured, even though he was  _this_ close to just bending down and kissing Yoosung breathless.

"S'okay."

They both got up, and the awkward silence settled for a brief moment before Saeran's face lit up.

"Here, I packed some breakfast." He reached into the basket he had been carrying and pulled out a flannel blanket, placing it down on a large, flat rock to their left that was cleared from snow. Yoosung wondered if people came up here often...

Saeran then pulls out two of wrapped packages, handed one to Yoosung, and then sat on the blanket, patting the spot next to him for Yoosung.

The sun warmed their faces, even in the cold, and it felt even better as they munched on what turned out to be sandwiches, as well as a canteen of water.

Saeran also pulled out a flask of his own, and, at Yoosung's puzzled look, handed it to him. After one sip, Yoosung coughed several times and gave Saeran a bewildered look.

"What  _is_ that?!" He cried, wiping his lips and thrusting the canteen back at Saeran.

Saeran frowned, then looked surprised. "You've never had whiskey before?" He asked with equal amnesty.

"Whiskey?" Yoosung gulped at the water, eyes still wide.

"Alcohol, in general?"

"I don't believe so, no. I don't blame Aithne; that stuff is awful!"

"Oh, cmon. You didn't even drink it right. Of course, you're gonna hate it if you take a gulp that big your first try."

Saeran handed the canteen and instructed Yoosung how to legitimately drink this strange new drink, which left Yoosung feeling slightly dizzy and throat-burning.

Saeran laughed and took a long swig before tucking the empty canteen back into his coat pocket.

In comfortable silence, they watched small children play in the snow, and people strapping on snowshoes.

When he was done eating, Saeran laid back over Yoosung's legs, head resting in his lap, mint eyes gazing into violet.

"What happened the other night in the kitchen?" Saeran asked quietly, picking at a loose strand on Yoosung's pants.

Yoosung's eyes widened, "How do you...?"

"The staff told me. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh," Yoosung sighed, tilting his head back, gazing at the sky, bringing back the memory of his childhood best friend. Tall, solemn, but still his V.

"Does it have to do with Aithne? I'm just confused because of Rika and Jihyun," Yoosung flinched at his name, "Are the leaders of Calida." So it was true. V was the king.

"I used to be very close with... Jihyun." The name tasted sour on his tongue, and unnatural, so unlike the soft, breezy syllable of his nickname.

Yoosung's mind screamed at him not to tell Saeran anything, not to tell anyone, to live on in secrecy and then forgetting would be easier. But he was falling into the leader's bright green eyes and couldn't help but let himself slip even further.

"When I was young, he was my best friend. I called him V. I didn't live in my own home too much; I stayed with V and his parents, who were very kind to me. V and I grew up together... we were practically inseparable, and for seven years too." Yoosung let out a shaky laugh but felt his smile slip. "When I was seven though, the previous queen had brought her daughter to Aithne. V abandoned me to be her suitor, I guess. He never really told me. With me one day, gone the next." Yoosung stopped heartbeat accelerating. "So," he said faintly, "I had to go back to my parent's house."

Flashbacks flooded through Yoosung's vision, his father's fists, pummeling his pale skin, leaving bruises and sometimes open cuts along his spine, which curled to protect his stomach, which was kicked anyways. His ribs showing through, dappled with large red-turning-blue splotches of color. Five long blue circles around his forearm, which lined up to his father's fingers when he gripped him too hard so he wouldn't run away.

Yoosung snapped out of his thoughts and let out a shuddering gasp. Saeran lifted a hand to Yoosung's face and rubbed his cheek with the pad of his thumb and soon Yoosung's salt-water tears were dropping off his cheeks, and Saeran sat up and held the shaking boy to his chest, rubbing his back and humming in his ear.

"It's okay, it's okay..."

...

Saeran held Yoosung until his sobs subsided, but still hummed a slow melody to help him calm down, low voice making his chest vibrating.

When Saeran was positive that Yoosung was okay, they packed up their bag and began walking down the mountain, talking and starting to laugh again. 


	16. You like me too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some training and then BAM POW some freaking romance

"What the fuck has Jaehee been teaching you? Your improvement is incredible."

Saeran was back to training with Yoosung, and the latter was showing off all the new things he had learned in the group training with Jaehee.

It had been three days since their picnic on the mountain, and since then Saeran had had the poster of Rika and V removed without hesitation.

Saeran swung at Yoosung again, but he ducked and punched Saeran's stomach lightly, not wanting to re-injure Saeran's barely-healed ribs.

It was late, nighttime, and after dinner, but Saeran was restless so he dragged Yoosung to the training room the practice.

When they were done, grinning foolishly at each other, Yoosung earning several compliments from Saeran, they were both tired.

As Yoosung was about to walk to the dorm though, Saeran grabbed his arm.

"Wanna come to my room?"  
It was too dark in the hallway for Saeran to see Yoosung's tomato-red cheeks. He nodded shyly, and then followed behind a smug Saeran, who hid his smirk well.

Saeran's room was just like Yoosung remembered, and his eyes immediately found the bottle of cologne, which was now on Saeran's bedside table.

Saeran pointed to the bathroom.   
"Shower. You smell," he teased, and Yoosung nodded meekly and walked into the tiled room, closing the door behind him.

...

Saeran yawned, getting up to check on Yoosung, who'd been in the bathroom for a while. However, just as he was opening the door, he realized that he had forgotten to knock, and showering usually meant you were nude.

Saeran froze as his eyes met Yoosung's bare skin, pale and glistening with water droplets as he stood in front of the mirror, hands running through his damp hair.

Saeran gaped like a fish out of water for about three seconds before Yoosung turned, noticing he was no longer alone, and let out a strangled cry of surprise, eyes wide as his hands flew down to cover himself.

The leader snapped out of his trance and abruptly slammed the door shut, suddenly breathing hard, the image of Yoosung sticking in his head, his long slender legs, slightly muscled chest and stomach and then... the other regions that Saeran had seen.

A blush fanned over Saeran's cheeks and he blinked rapidly, mortified, but also feeling a skip in his chest.

Inside the bathroom, Yoosung stood, frozen, embarrassment flooding over him in the form of a blush, reaching his ears and jawline.

Yoosung stared at the door, as if expecting Saeran to suddenly burst in again.

He pulled on sweatpants quickly, hesitating before slowly opening the door to peek out into Saeran's room.

The white-haired rebel lay on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest, staring at the ceiling. Yoosung was tempted to bolt of the door right then and there, but Saeran noticed him standing and bolted up.

"Yoosung, I'm so sorry that was really fucking stupid of me. I really didn't mean to." Yoosung took a deep breath, then forced a smile.

"It's okay."

"It's not, but thanks for saying that. Please don't hate me."

"I don't- I won't."

Saeran stepped closer, eyes locked on Yoosung, who was looking anywhere but Saeran.

"However..." Saeran said softly, his low voice making Yoosung look up, "You're really beautiful."

Yoosung's eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply. He froze as Saeran slowly wrapped his long, warm fingers around Yoosung's forearms, his thumbs slowly sliding back and forth of the soft, bare skin.

Yoosung sighed softly and closed his eyes, giving into Saeran's sweet words and touch. He stepped closer to Saeran, and the leader bent down to rest his lips on Yoosung's neck, just below his earlobe.

Yoosung shivered and opened his eyes, meeting Saeran's bright mint optics. Yoosung exhaled and it blew across Saeran's chin, and suddenly their lips collided, and Yoosung's mind exploded into bright lights.

Not only was this Yoosung's first kiss, it was the glaring realization of his sexuality, which, to his surprise, had probably been blatantly obvious to everyone but him.

Saeran, on the other hand, had known as a fact that he was gay from the very first time he saw Yoosung, laying in the snow, cold, unconscious, and beautiful. He hadn't paid much attention to liking someone beforehand, and Yoosung was the first person that had ever caught his attention.

When they pulled apart, Yoosung smiled shyly, but Saeran turned away quickly and went into the bathroom. Yoosung frowned, confused, and watched as Saeran touched a finger to each of his eyes, and then put something in a small metal pot on the sink.

When he tired back, he looked Yoosung straight in the eye. Gold. His eyes were gold. Deep, warm, with hues of amber and yellow and they looked like sunshine. Saeran crossed back to Yoosung and smiled.

Yoosung stared into Saeran's new eyes, lifting his hand and tracing a fingertip lightly under Saeran's eyes. "Gold?"

Saeran blinked, and then looked away shyly. "This is their true color. I wear contacts. Also, my real hair color is red... do you like them?"

Yoosung grinned, "I like you." He leaned in, inviting Saeran back. Saeran pushed into Yoosung's lips harder, and the younger guiltily pulled away.

"Sorry..." Saeran said breathlessly, even though he really wasn't. He guessed it was okay if Yoosung was overwhelmed. But he wanted to go faster, wanted to make up for all the time that he missed, just getting by on fantasies.

Suddenly, Yoosung was off the floor, in Saeran's arms, and was then placed on the couch. Saeran situated himself behind Yoosung, propped up by an elbow, looking down at the blonde.

"You like me?" He questioned. Yoosung nodded. Undoubtedly.

"Good," Saeran murmured, and kissed Yoosung again, hand resting on his bare, pale chest. As his kisses moved down Yoosung's neck, Yoosung felt his breath quicken.

"Don't wanna go... hah~ too fast." Saeran pulled away and winked. Again, he wasn't sorry.

After a few more kisses, Yoosung settled in the curve of Saeran's side, the leader slowly running his hands through Yoosung's blonde hair.

"I'm sorry for being so sudden," Saeran whispered.

"It's alright. I've had some kind of feelings for you for a while."

"Really?" Saeran looked genuinely surprised.

"Yeah... anyway, why do you wear contacts? I love your gold eyes."

Saeran's expression hardened, and his eyes filled with pain for a brief second, so quickly disappearing that Yoosung almost didn't see it.

Saeran laughed humorlessly. "I guess we both have tragic backstories. I'm not sure if I'm ready to share mine yet."

"That's okay." Yoosung tried to look sympathetic, even though he really wanted to know.

"You deserve to know... and since we'll be invading soon, it's likely that I'll have to face him again."

"Who's... he?"

"My twin brother. Saeyoung."


	17. Saeyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we get saerans backstory and some cute yooran shit

"Saeyoung," Saeran said sourly, "Was my twin brother." Yoosung interlaced their fingers and edged closer to Saeran, whose eyes were furious.

"We were born to a high-caste nobleman. He and Jumin worked together closely, but my brother and I were illegitimate, we were never supposed to have been born. So we grew up alone, in the dark, never venturing outside. Mother always beat me because I was often sick, more so than Saeyoung, costing her precious medicine and time. Saeyoung was always favored. Always. No matter what I did, he always did it better. He was brotherly, kind to me, we were close, at first. 

"One day our mother and father got into a fight, and my mother revealed us to Jumin, claiming that our father had raped her, and we were the product. My father was sent to work in the streets, and my mother became a handmaiden to an even higher-caste noblewoman. Jumin saw that Saeyoung was stronger than me, so he offered him a job as his jester. Saeyoung took it." 

Yoosung's eyes widened. "The Jester? I thought- Oh!" Yoosung's mind flashed back to the courtroom, picturing the Joker's face. "I thought you seemed familiar..." 

"What is it?" 

"I was present in the Joker's trial. I know him. I've talked to him... I wonder what happened after the trial..." Saeran blinked, then frowned. 

"Oh." 

"Anyways, sorry, continue." 

"Um. So, when Saeyoung took the job, I was left to rot." Saeran snarled the last word. "He left me. He fucking left me alone and never looked back. I went crazy. I was starving, parched, fatigued from nightmares. It made me insane... So I took it out on somebody. Maybe a guard, or a servant." Yoosung shivered. 

"When Jumin found out, I was banished, of course. Had to be tied up like a puppet and dragged down the streets, though. Saeyoung didn't come to my banishment... I wish he did, I would've torn him to shreds." There was an eerie smile on Saeran's lips. 

"Saeran, don't you think he might have-" 

"It was his fault, okay?!" Saeran snapped, and Yoosung jumped, almost afraid of Saeran. Realizing what he had done, the leader's eyes immediately turned to regret. "Yoosung..." 

"Are you alright now?" Saeran answered with sudden tears running down his face. He buried his head into Yoosung's shirt, his back shaking, and Yoosung blew out a sigh of relief. 

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you." When he was done, which was embarrassingly faster than how slow Yoosung had managed to stop crying during their picnic, he looked up with watery golden eyes at Yoosung. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered mournfully, "so, so sorry." Yoosung smiled gently. 

"Saeran, I know you don't think so, so please don't blow up this time, but is it possible that Saeyoung didn't have a choice?" 

"No." 

"Well, I mean, in the courtroom, my old teacher told me that the Joker was forced into his job, and that was why he performed so badly." 

"That's not possible." 

"Alright, say what you will, but think about it. I know you have a big grudge against it, but it's been what, 7 or 8 years? You both were only 12... Isn't it time to drop your resentment? You don't even know his side of the story." Saeran sat up, not looking at Yoosung. 

"Fine then. When I see him again, I'll ask him. But that doesn't mean that I don't hate him anymore. That hate has fueled me for 8 years. I'm not storming that fucking kingdom without a purpose." 

Yoosung laughed lightly, "Saeyoung is your only purpose?" 

"Well, that and getting back at the people who were cruel to you," he placed a kiss on Yoosung's neck playfully. 

"You're insufferable." 

"Nah, you love me."

"Just think about it, 'k?"

"Sure, Yoosung," Saeran's voice was doubtful.

"Question."

"Yes?"

"What are we?"

Saeran looked down at Yoosung, his absentminded hand freezing halfway through Yoosung's hair.

"What do you want us to be?" He asked cautiously. 

"I want to be with you," Yoosung replied softly, caressing Saeran's cheeks with his hand. 

"Well then, we're together." Saeran could barely hide his excitement.

"What about the Cold though?"

"What about them?"

"Won't they be... I dunno, angry?"

"Listen, if they've gotta problem with me  _or_  you being gay, they can go sleep outside for all I care."

"Saeran!"

"It's true...," the leader grumbled irritably, "There's nothing wrong with us."

"Well,  _I know that."_

"Good, then we don't have a problem." Saeran grinned and kissed Yoosung again. Yoosung still couldn't get used to the feel of the whole thing, the pulsing warmth that filled his lips whenever Saeran looked at him now. He felt like a little kid, carefree again.

"It's late," Yoosung whispered and giggled when Saeran rolled his eyes. 

"No shit, everyone else is asleep. We could go streaking and no one would know." Saeran wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Yoosung shrieked, pushing at his chest. 

" _What I mean_ is that I should probably go back to my dorm and let you rest."

Suddenly, Saeran flopped over Yoosung, laying heavily down on top of the smaller boy. 

"What... are you doing?"

"Making sure you can't leave."

"Saeran, you're insufferable. I can't sleep with you!" The white-haired leader turned to smirk at Yoosung, a glint in his eyes. 

"NOT LIKE THAT, YOU  _PERVERT_."

"Pleeeeeease?" Saeran whined loudly, and Yoosung laughed nervously. 

"Fine."

Saeran perked up and immediately catapulted off the bed, then turned and swooped Yoosung up into his arms, nuzzling his face into Yoosung's pale neck. He grandly carried him to the maroon-sheeted bed, then placing him softly on the left side. 

"You want some pjs? Or you could just sleep nak-"

"Shut the hell up," Yoosung laughed, covering his burning face with his hands.

"Sweatpants it is."


	18. Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cuddles, but then an assassin!

Yoosung woke up in Saeran's bed, the leader's arm fit snugly around his waist. Smiling, Yoosung kissed Saeran's cheek, "G'mooorning," he cooed.

One of Saeran's golden eyes peeked open.

"What a good way to wake up," he mumbled, and smiled lazily. Yoosung's stomach gargled, and he lifted Saeran's arm off him.

"C'mon sleepyhead, time for breakfast! I'm starving."

"Mmm," Saeran murmured in return, "Five more minutes."

Yoosung wasn't having it. He slipped out of the bed and went rummaging through Saeran's dresser, eventually finding a thin sweatshirt to throw on, not bothering to change out of the grey sweatpants Saeran had given him.

He walked over to the side of the bed where Saeran lay and found his way to Saeran's feet, lifting the covers off.

"What the fuck- YOOSUNG DON'T YOU DARE!"

Yoosung paused, fingertips hovering over the arch of Saeran's foot, a curious and mischevious look in his eyes.

"Oh?" He said innocently.

"You're a piece of crap. I'm super ticklish."

"Good to know."

Saeran mumbled something under his breath and got up from the bed, kissing Yoosung's forehead quickly.

The two walked to the main hall together, asking the normal, "How did you sleep,"'s and "What are you gonna do today?"'s. The clamor of the Cold was as loud as usual, and Yoosung felt comfort in it all until he thought about all their reactions when Saeran walked in holding Yoosung's hand. 

"Should we...?" Yoosung looked down at their intertwined fingers.

"They're gonna find out sooner or later. I'd rather not hide it from them. They deserve to know." Saeran winked.

Yoosung smiled nervously, and the two walked into the hall together.

At first, the Cold didn't notice the two. Slowly, heads began to turn and mouths either clamped shut or hung open.

Saeran lead Yoosung down the aisle, watching people with an even gaze, muscles, in the arm that wasn't holding onto Yoosung, flexed. Yoosung saw Jaehee's eyes light up, and then her lips settle into a smirk. Yoosung felt his cheeks heat up.

They stopped at the base of Saeran's 'throne', and without warning, Saeran quickly turned, kissed Yoosung hard and quick on the lips, and then vaulted up into his seat.

Yoosung stood, stunned, but seconds later, the Cold erupted in cheers, shouts, and applause. Yoosung smiled nervously, then turned and walked to his table. Cylus and Jaehee patted him on the back, crowing about him and laughing heartily.

"Wait, Yoosung," Cylus paused.

"What?"

"Does this make you... our queen?"

"Wha-"

"ALL HAIL QUEEN YOOSUNG! ALL HAIL THE QUEEN!" Jaehee shouted at the top of her lungs, and above all the clamor, the Cold shouted in response, "THE QUEEN!"

"I'm a boy!" Yoosung wailed indignantly, but Jaehee just laughed.

...

After breakfast, when Saeran approached Yoosung so they could walk to the training room, Jaehee and Cylus made swooning gestures and blew kisses to the two, causing Yoosung to blush furiously.

"Idiots," Saeran muttered affectionately. He locked his fingers with Yoosung's and they followed the crowd to train.

...

Yoosung walked from the infirmary to Saeran's room, the pale moon shining through the skylight of the main hall, the large room silent.

Suddenly, there was a sound of breath whooshing out and Yoosung cried out as a hand reached from behind him and pulled him back.

Fear took over and Yoosung squirmed violently, striking out with an elbow, causing the attacker to let go, but the moment was too short for Yoosung to get away. The attacker landed a shove to Yoosung's back and he sprawled forward on his stomach, palms burning from the impact.

Yoosung cried out but the attacker had recovered, straddling Yoosung's back, and then shoving a piece of fabric into the blonde's mouth and pinning his arms down. Yoosung tried to look back at his attacker, but even if he could strain his neck enough, it was too dark to see anything.

Suddenly, blinding pain in Yoosung's side. He tensed, then went limp as the blade sunk into his side. Choking on sour bile, he pushed a muffled shriek through the gag.

Yoosung felt a warm liquid touch his fingers as he began to bleed, the knife still lodged.

In one quick movement, the attacker leaped off him and Yoosung heard their footsteps as they ran away.

Pain cartwheeling stars across Yoosung's vision, he lifted a hand o his mouth, pulled out the gag, and heaved a breath.

"Help!" His voice broke as he collapsed back down on the stone floor. Footsteps. Was it the attacker? Come to finish him off?

"Yoosung?" No... that voice was familiar. Yoosung puked and Vanderwood made a disgusted sound, "Drink too mu- Yoosung?! You're bleeding... what happened?" He sounded calm, "Ooh~, a knife."

"Fucking- nngh- HELL, Vanderwood," Yoosung screeched as the man pulled out the blade.

"Don't get your gay-ass panties in a twist, you'll be fine. It's fucking shallow as hell."

"SHALLOW, MY ASS."

"Calm down, Mr. Famous. I'm fucking helping you."

"Get on with it then."

"Or I could just leave you here if you don't smarten up. Manners?"

"Pretty fucking please."

"Much better," Vanderwood stood, then hoisted Yoosung up into his arms, rolling his eyes, "You're too light. I thought you'd at least gained some muscle here."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Yoosung!" Saeran yelled, careening into the infirmary and rushing to his boyfriend's side.

The blonde was sitting up in bed, relatively happy with a large gauze patch on his side, just below his rib.

"Saeran, I'm fine, really."

"We caught the attacker, I'll be seeing him after this."

"Was he..." Yoosung didn't want to ask.

"A part of the Cold? Oh god no. My guess is that we've been found. I'm not sure which kingdom he's from, but I'll find out." Saeran's eyes, which were mint again, went dark, and something of a grin sunk his features.

"Saeran, come back," Yoosung murmured so softly that only the leader could hear, "Calm down."

"Are you okay?" Saeran asked suddenly, inspecting the bandage.

"Peachy," Yoosung responded and rolled his eyes, and Saeran chuckled.

"Let me go deal with this guy."  
  


"Be careful."

"I always am." Saeran kissed Yoosung softly, then jogged out of the infirmary.

...

The snow was back, and it clung together in clumps that landed on Saeran's head and coat. The small, brick hut that was used for storage was just behind the fortress of the Cold, a large door leading down into the food cellar.

Saeran quickly approached the building, entered, then shut the door tightly, a grim expression on his face. 

The cellar felt warm and dry, and Saeran shook his coat and boots of snow, meeting Jaehee at the entrance. The attacker's knife bumped against Saeran's thigh as he walked; Vanderwood had given it to him.

"Has he spoken?" Saeran asked Jaehee, as they walked down the narrow hall that sloped down into the cellar.

"Not a word," the brunette soldier replied, glancing up at Saeran.

"He will, eventually." Jaehee rolled her eyes, but the thought made her shiver as the hallway evened out. The two walked through an aisle of shelves to the middle of the cellar, various food rations, cans, water jugs, and all sorts of supplied stacked up on the shelves,

The room was shaped in a rough circle, with many large shelves of food and supplies angled to the wall to make a smaller circle in the middle. Here sat a man, cross-legged, and guards surrounding him with weapons raised.

His face was square, and lung hair hung past his ears to his shoulders. He wore a long fur coat and thick pants, and his boots stood next to him. All of his clothing seemed to be in good quality, too good to just be made out in the cold. No, this man was from a kingdom.

"Saaaeraaan?" The stranger cooed, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. His voice was high, quaky, and mocking.

"Yes, that's right, you piece of shit," the leader growled. Saeran was having a  _very_ tough time not strangling the man after what he had done to Yoosung.

¨Temper, temper,¨ the intruder sang delicately. Saeran fumed.

¨What do you want?"

The man grinned and cracked his knuckles. Saeran grimaced.

"Silly, silly, silly boy~"

"How am I-?"

"Did you read the knife?" The man screeched.

"Read the..." Saeran slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the small dagger.

The intruder began to laugh maniacally, "Silly, silly, silly," he crowed, wheezing.

There was a scrap of paper attached to the hilt of the blade, which Saeran hadn't noticed before. Carefully, the leader pulled back the paper and read the small words etched in purple ink.

" _We know where you are. -JH_ "


	19. Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rally the troops -.-

"Take him to the Dungeon. I'll tell you my plan at lunch. Don't say a word of this to anyone." He addressed the last part to the other guards as well. They nodded solemnly. 

...

Yoosung felt strange, memories of when he first arrived at the Cold flashing through his mind. He had laid in this very bed, staring up at the strange ceiling... Confused and bewildered by the rowdy resistance. Now he was one of them. He had trained, he knew how to survive in the harsh weather, he knew how to work with the rest of the members. 

He was strong now (aside from the fact that he had just been stabbed). 

"Yoosung." Emille's soft voice interrupted Yoosung's thoughts.

"Emille, hey."

The brown-skinned woman smiled broadly, Aubin asleep on her back, secured by fabric. Emille sat down on the edge of Yoosung's bed and took his hand in her own.

"I knew the whole time," she murmured softly, "about how Saeran loved you."

Yoosung felt his cheeks go hot.

"The night that you fell asleep outside at the campfire, Saeran brought you here, and kissed your forehead." Emille pressed her thumb to the same spot.

Yoosung looked down, fidgeting under her brown eyes. 

"He really does love you, you know," Emille said proudly and smiled again.

"I love him too." The words warmed his heart.

"I know. C'mon, it's lunchtime."

...

Saeran was already on his throne when the Cold began filing in for lunch, but things were quieter now. Maybe news of Yoosung's attacker had traveled fast. 

Yoosung and Emille sat down across from Cylus and Jaehee, and they all looked nervously at each other. The four had talked about the attack this morning, but Jaehee seemed particularly nervous, glancing worriedly at Saeran. 

The meal was eaten quickly, everyone anticipating Saeran's obvious announcement that was to come. The leader sat stoically in his seat, frowning to himself.

No one left the hall when they finished eating, just sat and waited for Saeran to start speaking. 

"My friends," his low voice echoed through the silent room, mint eyes scanning over the crowd.

"As many of you already know, there was an attack last night."

_Murmurs._

"Our Queen," Yoosung buried his head in his hands in embarrassment. So Saeran had picked up the title as well, "Was attacked, and stabbed. He's recovering, but the attacker has given us information.

"Aithne knows where we are. We have been discovered. The Emperor has spotted us, and is no doubt planning an attack."

_More whispers, cries of outrage from some._

"However," Saeran continued, "Will we let them do that?"

" _NO!"_

"Exactly," Saeran replied, satisfied, "So."

His dark eye's flashed across the Cold. "We attack as soon as possible."

_Battle cries._

"Blacksmiths." Saeran pointed to a section in the room where several burly members sat. They were already nodding, pulling designs out of the large pockets of their aprons.

"Jaehee, I want training leveled up. More one-on-one, more endurance." The brunette nodded, cracking her knuckles.

"Vanderwood, I want another order by tomorrow. All other job reps, come see me for assignments."

Yoosung watched as people got up quickly, heading in separate directions down the hallways to their specialties. 

He got up himself and began gathering food for the rest of the immobile patients in the infirmary. Vanderwood stopped him with a hand on his forearm. 

"You're a patient too, now."

No use arguing, Yoosung walked back the infirmary, poking at his bandages, wincing in pain as he realized it wasn't the best idea. 

"Freaking heal already," Yoosung whispered to his wound in exasperation. As he sat back into his bed, he peeled back the bandages and rolled his eyes. The wound was stitched, clean, and only hurt if he prodded it. 

"Some patient I am," he murmured and got back up from the bed. 

"Aye, Yoosung," A man from a few beds over with a large stitched incision over his stomach called, "What was all that commotion about?" 

"We're attacking Aithne," Vanderwood interrupted Yoosung as he walked into the room, tossing bread-rolls to the patients.

"Attacking?"

"It's now or never, Marcus, so heal up quickly if you want to come. We've delayed it for too long. I've been here longer than Saeran and even I know that." 

"Of course," Marcus replied, and tore into his roll with hunger. 

"Hey, Vanderwood," Yoosung said in a lax manner, "I'm feeling fine. Can I go up?"

"You mean outside? They're making snowshoes up there, but don't stay up too long or Saeran'll kill me. By the way... you two make a good pair."

Marcus laughed loudly and Yoosung hid his burning face as he walked quickly from the infirmary.

"Remember, you still work here!" Vanderwood called after him, grinning, for once. 

Yoosung raced happily up the stairs to the door, then burst through the doors, feeling the snow and cold and wonderful fresh air on his skin. Inhaling deeply, he laughed breathlessly, gazing up at the sky in wonder.

No matter how many times he came outside, he believed he'd always be in awe. The mountains that cupped the valley were obscured by clouds, which were letting large snowflakes fall softly to the already frosted ground.

In a shed to the left side of the fortress, a couple of people lounged around a fire, their children romping around in too-big snowshoes, as the adults weaved thin strands of wood together around a frame. 

"Hey," Yoosung said cheerily, and sat down next to them, picking up a frame for himself as the snow fell around them.

...

Yoosung knocked on Saeran's door, yawning tiredly. He had taken off his bandage several hours ago, as he felt fine, and now he could feel the stitches catching on the fabric of his shirt. Everyone had been insanely busy, making progress and preparing for the invasion. Saeran had spoken again at dinner, and they were to leave in 10 days, or as soon as Yoosung had completely healed, which Yoosung had been promptly flustered by. 

"Saeran?" Yoosung called out carefully, entering the study. 

"Hm?" Saeran looked up from his desk, rubbing his eyes. In front of him lay several books and maps, and Yoosung recognized the documents he had originally brought to the side as well. 

"It's late."

"I'm aware."

Sighing, Yoosung stepped forward, "Do I sleep in the dorm?" 

Saeran looked up and shook his head, "I want you with me so the incident that occurred last night won't repeat."

"Okay... well I'm going to bed, I'm actually really tired. Will you come to bed soon?" 

"Yeah," Saeran replied distractedly. Yoosung leaned over the desk and pressed his lips to Saeran's temple, begging him internally to stop working. 

Saeran didn't respond. Yoosung let his hope drop and he walked out of the room.


	20. Final Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey they had sex, the Cold throws a party, cliche 'i dont wanna lose you' speech

5 days later, Yoosung was back to training with Saeran. It was late afternoon, and some other Cold members were with them in the Training room, sorting out weapons, trying out new blades and swords.

Saeran and Yoosung didn't talk as they lashed out, holding focus to themselves.

_Block, throw, block-block, throw, duck, block, kick, punch-punch._

Saeran overextended in a punch as Yoosung dodged, and Yoosung took the moment to grab Saeran's wrist and pull him towards the blonde, then flipping them and landing on top of Saeran on the ground, pinning him.

Laughing, Yoosung relaxed his stance and lay on top of Saeran briefly, eyes bright.

"I beat you," he teased, and Saeran rolled his eyes. Yoosung crawled off Saeran and stood, then helping the leader to his feet. As he began to walk away to grab some boxing gloves, Saeran laughed under his breath.

"I let you do that."

Yoosung swiftly turned and aimed a sharp fist directly at Saeran's face, but of course, Saeran caught his wrist without a flinch, and smirked, winking.

"You're insufferable!"

"You love me."

...

Yoosun flopped down on the couch, muscles aching. Saeran had been tough on him today, and he had carried boxes of supplies from the storage rooms into the kitchen for 2 hours, so his arms were weak.

His side stab was a scab now, long, thin, and weird looking.

Hearing footsteps from the study, Yoosung looked up, gazing at Saeran as he walked into the room. The leader looked tired, tense. Yoosung got up from the couch.

As Saeran stood by his bookshelf, organizing papers, Yoosung came up behind him and put his hands on Saeran's shoulders, massaging the muscled tissue. Saeran let out a low breath and leaned back into Yoosung's hands, eyes closed.

"Saeran... what's wrong?"

His boyfriend was silent for a second.

"It's really hard... not to just take you right here."

"Take- Oh." Yoosung understood what he meant. He looked down at the floor. Would this be a good time to tell Saeran he was a virgin?

"Saeran..." Yoosung trailed off, not sure what to say to him.

"I don't want you to ever leave my side, Yoosung," Saeran murmured softly, turning around to face him.

Yoosung looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Then give me reasons to stay."

That's all Saeran needed. He grabbed the back of Yoosung's neck and pulled their lips together, Yoosungs gasp getting lost in Saeran lips.

Saeran backed blindly onto the bed and pulled Yoosung onto the soft blankets.

And in those moments, they were just teenagers again, free from the normal constraints of life, just impulsive kids without the weight of the world on their shoulders. They weren't leaders who had the lives of hundreds of people held delicately in their hands. They were free and reckless, and they loved it.

...

Saeran pushed Yoosung under the stream of water, rubbing soap along his body, watching him close his eyes in bliss. He washed Yoosung's hair for good measure, and then his own, and the two stood in the shower for several minutes, Yoosung leaning against Saeran's chest, Saeran's arms around him.

"I'm gonna go change the sheets," Saeran murmured, kissing Yoosung's ear.

Nodding, Yoosung stayed in the steaming shower, standing under the spray, remembering the bliss.

He stepped out of the shower shortly, and rubbed the fog off the mirror, looking at himself in the surface, his hair brown as it was wet, purple eyes, small mouth, small lips. He smiled slightly, then stepped outside, undressed.

Saeran was pulling sheets over the bed, and he glanced up at Yoosung, a blush dusting his otherwise calm features. Yoosung padded over to the dresser and pulled on sweatpants, then settled with Saeran under the fresh sheets, facing each other.

Saeran placed a hand on Yoosung's cheek and smiled slightly.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

...

Yoosung woke to the warmth of Saeran next to him, stroking his bare back with soft fingertips.

"You're awake before me?" Yoosung mumbled.

Saeran laughed softly. "I guess so." His morning voice sent shivers down Yoosung's spine.

"Did you sleep well?" Saeran asked, pulling Yoosung closer to him.

"Hmmm," Yoosung hummed, nodding in response, reaching up to cup Saeran's face with his hands. Saeran reached down slightly to kiss Yoosung softly, holding him protectively.

"I had a dream about us," Saeran said when they broke apart.

"Oh?" Yoosung closed his eyes and leaned against Saeran's warm chest.

"Did you ever learn about the ocean?" Yoosung shook his head, thinking back to his school lessons.

"It's supposed to be a big surface of deep water that moves in waves. It's warm there, with ground called sand instead of snow and ice. You go swimming, for fun. And you know fish? They live in the ocean too."

Yoosung tried to imagine it, but clouds and white snow kept digging his vision.

"Sounds nice," he said sadly.

"Let's go to the ocean, when this is all over, okay?"

Yoosung smiled, "Yeah."

...

Yoosung and Saeran walked into the main hall together, and today everyone was calmer, not paying as much attention to the couple, which was a relief to Yoosung.

As Yoosung sat down next to Cylus, he hissed in pain; his ass hurt like hell. Jaehee caught on and gave Yoosung a curious glance, smirking. Cylus didn't notice, but Yoosung blushed and nodded slightly at Jaehee, who nearly spat out her coffee, sputtering. Her cheeks struck a deep red as she processed the fact that Saeran and Yoosung had had sex the previous night. Yoosung buried his head in his hands in embarrassment.

Saeran had a hopeful, determined look on his face when he raised his hand for silence in the hall.

"Today is the last day of preparation," he announced. "Tomorrow, all who are physically capable, and who don't have a family here, are asked to accompany me on the quest we have been preparing for, for over a decade. To all that will not be joining us, Emile will be in charge. Tomorrow morning, we'll all meet outside by the main door at sunrise. Please be packed and prepared with the bare necessities. Vanderwood and I will inform you of the full plan tomorrow. Please work hard today, I'll try to come see all of you for final instructions. Dismissed."

...

"PARTY!" Jaehee yelled, and the Cold began to flood towards the door leading outside, the huge bonfire already roaring to the open night sky, the stars pinpricks of crystal light.

The night was warmer than usual, and melted snow dripped off the roof. It was after dinner, and Saeran had given into Jaehee's pleas for a celebration, sending people to the wine cellar while assigning Vanderwood to watch that no one got drunk.

The group was singing, and someone was drumming on an empty wine barrel, creating a dancing beat, and Saeran began to lose his worried voice as Yoosung pulled him in to dance that neither of them knew. 

They crowed to the sky, voices rocketing to what felt like the moon, laughter and happiness ricocheting off each member. Yoosung climbed on top of a wooden crate and waved his hands for silence. 

"Let's have a speech!" Someone yelled.

"I have something to say, yes." His eyes skated over the crowd, of all ages, of all personalities, of all shapes, of all talents. "When I arrived here, I was welcomed with open arms. I felt like a guest. But now, I've lost track of how much time I've spent here, with you, and I know I'm no longer a stranger. I hope you accept me... when I say that I'm part of the Cold now." There were many cheers that warmed Yoosung's heart. 

"You're all so different, and so unique... and I think that's why I love you so much. Thank you... for teaching me," he looked at Vanderwood and Jaehee, "for accepting me," he found Emille and Cylus, "and for letting me into your hearts." he looked at Saeran, who was genuinely smiling. "I will remain your ally, and your friend, on this side of the wall, and help us to get our kingdoms back, even if it kills me." Applause, cheers, smiles. It enveloped Yoosung as he hopped off the crate and flung himself into Saeran's arms, hugging him tightly. 

"I love you," Yoosung said fiercely.

"I love you too."

...

"Alright guys, let's head in! Need our sleep for tomorrow." The Cold began stepping back through the door that lead back inside the fortress. 

"I'll meet you in your room," Yoosung told Saeran as he slipped inside with Vanderwood, going to check on the patients. 

"Big day tomorrow," Vanderwood said shakily, and Yoosung glanced at him from the corner of his eye. 

"Vanderwood, are you... nervous?" 

Vanderwood scowled at him, "You're crazy if you're not, kid."

"Why?"

"This isn't a safe mission, Yoosung. It's not going to be anywhere  _near_  easy. People could die." 

"Yeah, but we've been training-"

"You think that's anything like real fighting? A person could train for years and still lose as soon as he steps into a real battle."

Yoosung looked down, ashamed. 

"Hey," Vanderwood said after a few minutes of changing bandages and cleaning the infirmary, "It's just my nerves. I'm sorry."

Yoosung shook his head and smiled, "I should be thanking you right now."

"Why?"

"Putting up with me, teaching me, not being an ass."

"Don't get fucking emotional," Vanderwood scolded, but he was smiling. Yoosung finished putting away the antibiotics and walked over to his teacher, reaching out a hand. Vanderwood looked at it blankly for a second, then swatted it away and pulled Yoosung in for a quick hug.

"Vanderwood, ya big sap," Yoosung cooed. 

"Shut the fuck up," the doctor said and pushed Yoosung out the door, "Go see your boyfriend." 

"Will do!" Yoosung called cheerily, and waved goodbye.

...

"I don't want you coming tomorrow." 

Saeran and Yoosung were sitting together on the couch, looking over plans for last minute details.

"What? Why?" Yoosung frowned at Saeran, almost hurt. 

"I don't want to lose you." Saeran wasn't meeting Yoosung's eyes, eyebrows shoved together. 

"Saeran, I'm not gonna stay here and wait, with no idea if you're alive!" Yoosung said loudly.

"I'm not gonna die," Saeran muttered.

"You don't know that." 

"What would I do if you died? It would be my fault, Yoosung."

"No, it would be  _my_ fault if I let your dumb ass go without me." 

"Yoosung, please." Saeran leaned over and kissed Yoosung's warm forehead, begging him to stay safe. 

"I'm coming," the blonde said stubbornly. 

"Okay, okay," Saeran gave in, and pulled Yoosung to his chest, picking him up. 

They fell into bed together, holding hands, holding hearts, knowing that this could be their last night together, laying side-by-side. 


	21. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they leave in the morning for aithne

"Yoosung."

Saeran's voice chased away Yoosung's dream of Elizabeth, Jumin's snow leopard, chasing after him. 

"C'mon, we gotta go." There were no good morning kisses or cuddles today.

"I've already showered. Be quick, and then meet me outside. Your pack's by the door." Saeran spoke quickly, softly to Yoosung, who was suddenly wide awake. 

Saeran squeezed Yoosung's hand, then walked briskly out the door.

Just like Saeran had instructed, Yoosung showered quickly, towel drying his hair as much as possible before walking to the dresser. He and Saeran had decided on clothes the day before, finding the warmest, toughest fabrics for their treks. 

Yoosung wore semi-thick, soft, stretchy leggings, then heavy sweatpants, and then snow pants: thick, water-resistant pants with padding and stuffing between the two layers of fabric. 

For shirts, he wore a tank top, a thick sweater, with a heavy down jacket on top.

Yoosung pinned his hair back with barrettes and then pulled on a hat down over his ears. He laced up his boots, grabbed his pack, then walked out, locking the door behind him.

...

"Friends," Saeran called over the crowd. Heads turned. "I thank you all for joining us today."

He stood on the same crate that Yoosung had the previous night, Yoosung standing on the ground to his right, Vanderwood on the left. 

"We've been waiting too long for this. As a precaution, this is going to be dangerous... extremely so, so I will not judge you if you walk back inside now." No one moved. "We'll walk to Aithne until noon, then rest until sundown, then strike the city. We'll be given entrance by our safeguard, Zen. You do NOT trust any other guard beside him. We'll break in a few hours."

With that, Saeran hopped off the crate and began walking East, towards the speck on the horizon. 

...

Yoosung walked next to Jaehee, trudging through the snow at an even pace. Some people wore snowshoes, but Yoosung didn't mind walking without them. No one talked, trying to save energy and breath. Saeran was still in front, keeping an eye on the shackled prisoner they were planning on returning. 

Saeran looked calm on the outside, but Yoosung knew that he was thinking about his brother. Yoosung hoped that he had listened to his advice and was thinking about giving Saeyoung a second chance. 

...

The sun was directly above them when the group stopped. Yoosung felt light sweat on his forehead as the group halted. 

"We sleep in the shifts I talked about earlier. My group, take first. Everyone else, start making those walls."

...

Yoosung lay behind a small wall of curved snow, compacted into a tiny space that would keep him cold and hidden from any scouting enemies from the kingdom. Even though he wasn't very tired, he rested, knowing that he'd need all the energy he could, as they would be walking, fighting, and running all night. 

Saeran had been serious and leader-y and strict the whole day and hadn't paid very much attention to Yoosung, who was feeling like a spoiled child begging for attention, but the lack of interaction made his heart throb. He turned away from the open side of his wall and closed his eyes, blocking out the light of late afternoon. 

...

The sun was setting around camp, and some members crawled from their walls to grab dinner from their packs. Yoosung heard Saeran shift in the space next to him. Yoosung had slept restlessly, as he was sure most of the others had too, his nerves on edge. 

They were about 3/4 of the way to Aithne, and when he peeked around his wall, it's huge, towering dome sent shivers down his spine. He was anxious. The whole Cold was. But they were also excited. Their energy showed through their bright, alert eyes, muscles flexing as they prepared for the mission they had been training for, for so long. 

Finally, as soon as the sun had set, and Yoosung had slept a bit more, Saeran called out, "Cold! We leave in five!"

The group slipped quietly through the darkness, stepping in each other's footprints, as to not make too much noise. Yoosung saw tears in a few members eyes as they drew closer to the home they had once belonged too. Some still had families that remained here. Saeran's eyes were hollow as he steadily tried to picture his twin brother.

Yoosung could clearly see the door now as they approached, it's dark outline cut out fro the metal of the wall. 

Before approaching, Saeran turned and faced his people, letting out a deep sigh. "We go from this entrance to the border of the East district. We cross over, towards the middle of the city, and pass through Mortem Avenue to get to the central square. It's not likely that anyone will be up, but be inconspicuous and please, for the love of God, be silent. We enter the castle head on, through the North District. If anyone sees us, do NOT kill them, but knock them out quickly. I will lead the front, Vanderwood will take the back. Stick together, and good luck to you all. I couldn't have asked for a more hardworking, strong, hilarious group as you, and I'm proud to be your leader. L'chaim!" 

Yoosung remembered the word from his lessons... A toast, from an old, lost language...

"L'chaim!" The Cold whisper-yelled in return, their voices echoing up to the night. 

Saeran turned to the door, knocked once, then twice quickly, then once again. The door was silent for a moment, and then swung open to a guard. His body was fit, muscled, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut. 

His pale skin was made ghostly illuminates as he, like all of the other citizens of Aithne, had never been exposed to sunlight. His long white hair was tied back and trailed down his back.

Zen's red eyes darted over the crowd and he let out a low whistle as he took in the immense number of eyes staring back at him eagerly.

"Shit," he said softly, and grinned at Saeran.

"Hey, Zen," Saeran shook Zen's hand, "Thanks for helping us so much over the past years. We owe you a lot."

"Don't mention it. I'd love to see Mister Trustfundkid in the dirt where he belongs." Zen's face lit up when he saw Jaehee, who smiled shyly at him, blushing. 

Yoosung rolled his eyes. Was this dude all it took to turn Jaehee from a fierce warrior soldier to a blushing, giggling teenage girl? 

Saeran noticed too, and he caught Yoosung's eye, winking at him. 

Yoosung's heart fluttered at the first sign of attention he had gotten all day, and he smiled at Saeran reassuringly.

At Saeran's signal, the Cold began filing into Aithne. 


	22. Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit goes down

The cold stopped briefly in a backstreet, shedding their cold-weather gear, striping to tank tops, pants, and running shoes. Jaehee slicked her hair back into a ponytail, a determined look on her face.

Yoosung unpinned his hair, tousled it, then walked to the front to stand by Saeran, who was handing their prisoner over to Zen. 

"Hey," he said quietly, and Saeran glanced over.

"Hey, you." He smiled tightly.

Yoosung could tell he was nervous. "It's gonna be okay," he reassured the leader.

"I know, it's just... please be careful, alright?"

"I will, you too. Do you think we'll see Saeyoung?" He asked the last part soft enough that only Saeran could hear. Saeran's face twisted into an odd expression.

"Maybe," he said simply.

They took off at a run, the whole group following quickly in suit.

The warm humidity settled over their bodies as they jogging through the streets. The giant heat lamps that were far above on the ceiling were off, as they powered down at curfew, but the heat still remained.

The Cold's feet hit the stones with light taps, and they began passing the residential houses. Their dark shapes moved through the allies with ease.

It was a few minutes later that Yoosung caught a glimpse of a night dweller. He gulped and reported it quietly to Saeran.

"We're getting close to Mortem then?"

Yoosung nodded. He knew these streets. He'd been walking on them for years, especially at night.

One more turn... Saeran stopped short at the entrance of Mortem Avenue.

Night dwellers and Vendors looked up. The Cold halted as well, gazing uneasily at the supernatural beings.

The street was long and narrow, lined with stands. The Vendors looked like humans, but their skin was black, as if it had been covered in soot, and there was little to no light in their eyes. They didn't look scary so much as irrevocably sad.

That was the fault of the dwellers. Tall,  
black shapes with luminous white eyes that leaked a milky white substance. They had no other facial features, but their long-fingered hands were usually clasped in front of their chests, as if they were begging for something.

Night dwellers fed on life. They sucked the happiness out of someone until the human was a night dweller as well.

Yoosung turned to Saeran. "We need to be quick, and silent. Noise sets them off. I say we go straight down the middle in single file."

"Alright." 

The night dwellers stared at the group, eyes glowing. 

"Single file, silent," Saeran passed over the group. "Ready?" He gazed wearily at the dwellers. "Go."

Saeran launched into the street, and Yoosung followed close behind, the Cold snaking through the entrance of Mortem Avenue like a snake. 

The vendors began calling out immediately, unearthly shrieks and groans, pointing at them and wailing. The noise riled the dwellers up even more than before, and they reared their heads at the passing Cold, never once making a sound of their own. They reached out with clawed fingers, catching on clothing and hair.

The Cold members felt their endurance begin to sink as the dwellers ate away at their energy. Saeran pushed himself into a flat-out sprint, urging his legs to move faster. They couldn't stop, never stop running on Mortem Avenue or you're as well as dead. 

Vendors hissed at them as they flew past, faces grotesque, gnashing their black teeth angrily. Yoosung knew that he had seen some of these people in the courtroom, yet had done nothing to stop their punishment. His heart ached at the fact that he could never save them. It was  _his_ fault they were here. Yoosung fought back against his mind and pushed himself to run faster. 

The end of the street was in sight now, but still a long way off. The dwellers were getting frighteningly aggressive, white eyes growing brighter with hunger, like beacons. Yoosung felt the scratch of nails on his back and he stumbled, almost collapsing from the sudden, intense fatigue. 

They were nearing the end of the street now, except the largest, burliest night dweller that Yoosung had ever seen was standing in the way, eyes dripping luminescent, pearly tears. Saeran rushed forward, grabbing his dagger from his belt, and stabbed the dweller in the arm. The being froze, recoiled, and then fell to the ground, clutching his arm. 

Saeran shuddered as it silently crumpled, only holding it's limb limply as it bled the same silver substance. 

Cold members tumbled into the square, wheezing for breath as they crossed the threshold of Mortem. The night dwellers could not follow them into Central Square, and they glared angrily at the Cold before drifting forlornly back to the vendors. Yoosung heaved a sigh of relief.

Saeran let the effects of the dwellers wear off for a few minutes, but then called the members back together. 

"We go straight down the center of the North District," he pointed behind him to the giant brick-and-stone castle. "As I'm sure you all know, I'm not really one for detailed plans. We're not going for stealth, really, once we get in. Knock out as many guards as you can. That way, when we get to Jumin, he's completely helpless. Make it up as you go, and make good choices. I trust you all with our lives. Let's not waste this only chance." Saeran spoke quickly and softly to the Cold before grinning. "Let's go." 

...

Members crawled quickly over the gates to the castle, slipping deftly over the wrought-iron spiral posts. Two guards lay crumpled on the cobblestones in front of the gate, unconscious. 

"Split!" Saeran whisper-yelled, and the army dashed through the open front door, splitting off into fighting groups of 5 or 6 to different passageways. 

Yoosung, Saeran, Vanderwood, Jaehee, and Cylus stayed together.

"Which way?" Cylus asked quietly. 

"Yoosung, you know the layout of the castle better than any of us. Where should we go?" 

"Guard lounge," The blonde replied toughly, "That's where the guards go on break. If we take them down, no one can call for reinforcements."

"Lead the way."

...

Saeran was smiling. There Yoosung was, standing to his left, facing three opponents and kicking their asses. 

_You've grown so much... You've learned... You've opened my heart and made a home for yourself with me. I'm addicted to you, in the best way. Yoosung... I love you."_

Saeran tripped the last guard on him, turned to Yoosung, who was waiting, and kissed him quickly on the lips, keeping his eyes open to etch that beautiful violet into his mind. 

...

They were outnumbered. Yoosung was fighting back to back with Saeran, landing quick punches on guards as more replaced them. Saeran fought with his dagger, Cylus with a sickle, and Vanderwood had somehow dug up some nunchucks and was waving them around wildly while screeching profanities. Jaehee was in another room, but Yoosung could hear her fighting as well. 

Yoosung was heaving, face red, but more and more guards came at him, bloodying his fists with heir tough armor. 

They were overwhelmed in less than ten minutes, but not before leaving half of the guard's forces on the ground. 

The guards ripped Saeran from Yoosung, who cried out, and pinned their arms behind their back painfully, carting them out of the room. The others were forced to follow. 

...

Jumin was waiting for them at the top of the tower. He faced a window, hair slicked back and clothes immaculate in every crisp detail. 

"Hello, Cold. The rest of your warriors have been captured. They will be joining us shortly." He spoke softly. 

"How did you-" 

"Did you not think I would have spies around my city after I sent my messenger? I was updated on your every move." 

Saeran fumed at his stupidity. 

"Here we are~" Jumin hummed at a clamor and shouting that could be heard. Soon, yelling Cold members flooded through the doors, all struggling against their guards. Jumin turned and gazed at the group.

Vanderwood was on his knees, several guards around him with knives at his head. Jaehee was being held up by her ponytail, her face contorted in pain, a knife at her throat. Saeran was being held next to Yoosung, with handcuffs on, and Yoosung could feel the sharp point of a knife below his shoulder blade, directly behind his heart. 

Jumin walked towards Saeran, slowly, then turned to Yoosung, who glared back into those steely grey eyes. Jumin held eye contact with Saeran as he placed his hand over Yoosung's heart, then trailed his fingers down his small chest to his waistband. Yoosung flinched and looked away.

"Don't touch him," Saeran growled, thrashing. 

"Touchy, touchy," Jumin said silkily, cupping Yoosung's cheek in his hand. Yoosung bit back pain as guilt and sadness piled up on his chest. All this training... and for what? He wanted to apologize to Saeran, and the whole Cold too... he had been so confident that this would work...

Jumin walked around Yoosung slowly, then took him by the arm and led him forward, in front of the Cold. They were silent. 

"Kneel," he purred. Yoosung stayed standing. "Kneel or I'll kill your boyfriend." 

It was a weak, pathetic, threat, as Jumin would never be so stupid as to kill Saeran, who had valuable information, but one look at Saeran, motionless as he was held by the guards, the knife drawing beads of blood on his throat, made Yoosung drop to his knees. 

"I exiled you almost a year ago, in this very room. I thought I'd never have to see you again. You embarrassed me in front of my court, you defied my ruling, and you lost me one of my subjects, as the Joker went missing. You caused me enough trouble when you were a citizen, but now here you are again."

Jumin smiled, a toxic, deadly smirk, and placed a finger under Yoosung's chin to make him look up. 

"Here you are, a poor little boy, leading a tiny band of miscreant animals to try and what? Overtake the castle? Do you  _know_ , do you  _remember_ , what kind of punishment we would assign to a case like this, Yoosung Kim?"

Yoosung's eyes widened a fraction in fear. 

"Oh yes, you  _do_  remember." Jumin chuckled darkly. "And who am I, to deny you that right, hm? No, I mustn't go against the law, you know." Sarcasm seeped through his every word. 

 

Saeran hated the look on Jumin's face, that sick smirk that made Yoosung, his poor, beautiful Yoosung, cower in fear. Saeran struggled with every ounce of muscle he had to break free, but the guards held fast, the knife cutting a deepening sliver across his throat. 

"And what an audience, too! All your rebel buddies get to watch you, not to mention your loverboy over there. Personally, I think you have bad taste. Falling for a fake bad boy like him?Pft." Jumin watched in amusement as Saeran glowered at him, struggling forcefully against the guards. 

"Well, I don't want to bore any of you, so let's just got this done and over with."

Jumin pulled Yoosung up by the arm and dragged him over to what Saeran then realized was a hole in the wall, a window even. Jumin wouldn't... And then Saeran suddenly knew,  _Jumin would._

Jumin stood a shaking Yoosung in front of the window, facing the crowd, and then turned to face the Cold, grinning manically. 

"You are beaten! You have lost! I will show not one of you mercy, no matter which kingdom you've traveled." He looked pointedly at Emille, who's chocolate-colored skin shone with sweat.

"No!" Saeran yelled, and tears were in his eyes as he pleaded Jumin, "Please, I'll do anything." Jaehee gasped, appalled at his surrender, not realizing what Jumin would do to Yoosung. "I'll give you anything, just don't hurt him."

Jumin merely taunted Saeran with a mock-apologetic smile, and turned back to Yoosung. 

"The downfall of your revolution!" Saeran screamed in agony as Jumin shoved Yoosung, from his chest. 

Yoosung's face was one of sadness, not of anger, or pain, just sadness, as he watched- in slow motion, his balance lost- Saeran break away from his guards to lunge for Yoosung, but by then he was already falling, arms outstretched, wanting to grab Saeran's image, wanting it to be the last picture in his mind. 

He fell from the window, the wind in his ears, and Saeran's beautiful mint eyes as his last goodbye. 

Saeran threw himself to the windowsill, blocking every sense out as Yoosung fell away into the mist, gone. 

The room was silent for a moment, and even Jumin was gazing at his hands, questioning his choice. 

But then the tower's silence was pierced by one noise, the clatter of metal falling to stone. The guard that held Jaehee had dropped his knife, and it now lay on the grey slabs of the floor.

Jaehee's broken sob turned into a fierce battle cry, as she grabbed the knife her guard had dropped and flashed it back across her taut ponytail gripped in the man's hand, cutting the thick, glossy strands off at the bottom, before stabbing back into the man's shoulder, then an elbow to the face sent him reeling to the ground.

She went to help the others, but they were already doing well on their own, voices raising. Yoosung's death, the death of their queen, the death of their king's lover, the loss of their hope, had given each individual a new, strong reason to fight, tears streaming down their faces as they were given a second chance to fight.

In the midst of it all, Saeran numbly sobbed by the window, mourning to the mist. No one noticed when six guards surrounded him and carried him to the dungeon. There he lay, in a cell, as the battle raged above him.

...

Days, then weeks, then months passed, and Saeran lay in the same corner of his cell, broken, being force-fed food he couldn't taste. His muscles softened from lack of use. He was done. He had lost.

He had lost his only love, he had lost his brother who he was never able to apologize to, he had lost the only family he had ever known, his kingdom. He didn't listen to the whispers of other prisoners. He had given up. 

...

MC pushed to wagon down the long, dark hallways of the dungeons, eyes scanning each prisoner. Near the end, she stopped, recognizing the figure she was looking for. He lay in a small, curled position in the back left-hand corner. His white hair and pale skin were almost brown with dirt and grime. His clothes were old, dirty, worn.

"Saeran," MC called softly. When he did not respond, she tried again, a bit louder. The man stirred, and two giant, glowing mint eyes blinked open slowly. Saeran did not speak to the strange girl with long hair and brown eyes that were nearly hidden by her long bangs. He didn't even notice the wagon in front of her. 

When she knew he was awake, or in some sort of similar state, she unlocked the cell to Saeran's right, which was empty, and then slowly dragged the wagon inside, all the while, Saeran's luminescent teal eyes followed her. 

MC was the keeper of the keys. She was the one who fed Saeran as she took care of all of the other prisoners. When the wagon was situated, MC walked out of the cell, locked the door, and then turned and walked away. 

Saeran was about to fall back and forget this whole encounter when he heard a slight ruffling from his right. His eyes opened again, and he slowly turned his head to the right. He hadn't noticed that there was something in the wagon before. He didn't move, just watched. 

The thing moved again, and Saeran noticed it was covered by a blanket. The thing shuddered again, but this time, Saeran noticed something in the dim light of the dungeon. It was the color yellow.

Saeran turned away, his heart throbbing painfully. Yoosung was yellow too. 

Saeran turned back, but his heart suddenly missed a beat. The blanket had slipped more. Saeran's eyes widened. The figure slowly unfurled itself, and the blanket fell away. Saeran's heart pounded. He wondered if he had died. This wasn't possible. Slowly, the figure's head turned to face Saeran.

It fell roughly from the wagon, crawling to the bars that separated the two of them. Saeran was frozen, tears streaming down his face. He hadn't spoken in 4 months, and now... 

Saeran unwound his limbs, and slowly worked his way over to the figure. He couldn't speak, at least not now. They were both crying. Their hands met through the bars, just barely touching before interlocking tightly, shaking as their fingers overlapped. 

Saeran reached his hand through the bars to rub over the figure's cheek, thumb over his lips, pressing his palm to his jaw to make sure he was real.

 

 

Yoosung was missing an eye, his arm in a crooked cast, and his hair was dirty and matted, but Saeran had never seen someone so beautiful in his entire life.


	23. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saeran and yoosung are rescued, cuddles, targetting calida, yoosung is sick

"It's alright, I guess. You never knew... We thought they were dead, or Elizabeth..." Jaehee trailed off, heart pounding. Saeran and Yoosung were curled on the concrete floor of the dungeon, holding hands, sleeping while separated by the metal bars. Jaehee felt tears on her cheeks as her broken king and queen lay together. 

"Jaehee?" A low, foggy voice. Saeran's eyes blinked slow wonders at her. 

"Saeran, boss, it's me," Jaehee cred out, and MC unlocked Saeran's cell door quickly, letting her inside. Jaehee rushed forward and threw her arms around Saeran, hugging him tightly. 

"Jaehee." Saeran's voice was tight, relieved, happy. 

"I'm so sorry, Saeran. After Yoosung... You disappeared. I- I- I thought you- I didn't even know that-"  

"Jaehee, please. Just tell me what happened."

"Boss, we won. After Yoosung- We won. Jumin is in a guarded private cell... We've been organizing for the past three months, trying to get everyone into a state of calm. News from the fortress is good, they're doing well... Emille went back to be with Aubin, but everyone else who originally came has stayed, and we're giving everyone rooms in the castle. It's so  _big_ , Saeran, really, I never knew."

"Who's in charge?" 

A light flush flooded Jaehee's cheeks s she looked back at MC, who was smiling, "I... I am, boss."

Saeran grinned, "You're a queen yourself, J. No wonder you're so dressed up."

Jaehee glanced down at her wool dress, black with sleeves. It felt weird, so unlike her normal leggings and tanks. Instead of saying this, she just smiled. 

"It's good to see you, boss."

...

When Yoosung woke up, he almost cried from his sole eyes upon seeing Jaehee, who became even more flustered. 

"Yoosung! Your eye!" Jaehee cried out, and hugged him tightly.

"It's okay, it's okay, I promise."

After Jaehee's inspection, Yoosung burst over to Saeran and threw his arms around him, barely holding each other up with fragile legs. 

"I'll call the citizens," Jaehee said faintly, "And tell Cylus and Vanderwood to come help you get cleaned up..."

Yoosung and Saeran's muscles were weak, so weak that they had to be helped up the stairs by Cylus and Vanderwood, but Saeran was confident that they'd regain their strength soon. Sometimes, the two had even tried doing push-ups and whatnot in the cells to pass time, but it was hard in the warm, musty air, and they both ended up coughing and rolling to the floor after a few minutes. 

The two were taken down several flights of spiral staircases, past grand rooms and long hallways of private quarters, to the level above the boiler room, where big, smooth, metal tubs were already being pumped with water. 

Yoosung stripped quickly from the rags and slid into the heated water, sighing in relief and relaxation. Saeran climbed into the tub next to him.

They told their individual stories to Vanderwood and Cylus, who were now appointed as actual staff at the castle. The couple and Cylus were growing smiles again like flowers, and even Vanderwood couldn't help grinning at Saeran, his best friend, as he fit the pieces in his mind that his leader was actually back.

"Does it count as treason to her own kingdom when Jaehee called you boss?" Cylus wondered loudly, and Yoosung ducked under the water to keep from bursting out laughing, closing his good eye while trying to open the other. It hurt more than he could say, but it also caused a strange feeling in his head. Yoosung blew bubbles out of his nose and slicked his hair back as he rose to the surface, wiping water from  his eyes.

"Yoosung, we need to get that eye fixed," Vanderwood said calmly, walking towards Yoosung.

When Yoosung showed the damage, Vanderwood sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and Cylus looked away.

Yoosung's stomach began to churn and he looked to Saeran. Was he that much more unattractive now? 

Vanderwood described what Yoosung would have to do to keep it uninfected, and Yoosung hid his hands under the surface of the water to prevent Vanderwood to notice how much he was shaking. The ripples made it obvious though.

"It'll be okay, Yoosung, I'm sure." Cylus piped up, and Saeran nodded. 

_It'll be okay._

_It'll be okay._

...

The roar of the crowds outside the castle made Yoosung's heart leap. Jaehee lead the two Cold leaders down a long hallway that ended in light, another thing Yoosung had missed. Even if it wasn't from the sun, it was much better than the damp and dark space of the dungeon. 

Saeran was holding Yoosung's smaller hand in his own, trying to reassure the younger man, who was obviously nervous.

They were dressed in new clothes, Saeran in a white button-up, Yoosung in a soft blue, both wearing black jeans. Saeran had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and undid a few of the top buttons, but Yoosung had rolled his eyes at that and kept his own shirt nice and professional, even after Saeran had pushed him against a wall when they were changing (alone, of course) and tried to unbutton him then. 

Yoosung had definitely missed Saeran's lips. They had joked about how hard it had been to be together through the tightly-spaced bars of the cells. But now they were together, actually. Yoosung didn't care if he sounded clingy; he never wanted to leave Saeran's side again. He could only imagine the torment that Saeran had felt, alone. He wanted to make sure that Saeran was never unhappy again... 

Shaking his head to clear it, Yoosung looked forward and forced a smile as he and Saeran stepped out onto the balcony, looking down at the thousands of people who stood below them. The noise of their cheers swelled, and Yoosung looked to Saeran, who was grinning.

Saeran made a speech, Yoosung said some words, and then they were whisked off to planning with Jaehee, who showed them her plans for invading Calida, which made Yoosung's hopes plummet when he thought of V...

Jaehee's plans were to leave soon, actually. She had been meaning to leave with the Cold that was in Aithne, and about one hundred recruits from Aithne in a few weeks, but she and Saeran agreed that the sooner they left, the better. They planned on leaving in three days, and were so caught up with plans that they didn't notice Yoosung slip out of the room, head hurting and aching to move around. 

He walked the familiar halls of the castle, frowning at the plain brick walls and monochrome. Somehow, he found himself unconsciously making his way towards the Court Adviser's room, half of him doubting that his old boss would be there, the other half hoping he was. 

He pushed the curtains aside cautiously and peeked into the room, and his eyes widened at the sight of his ex-boss, who now sat in front of a loom, colorful fabric leaking out as he worked in silence.

"Mr. Elias," Yoosung breathed, and the hunched old man froze, knobby fingers stopping over the shuttle of his loom.

He turned on his stool to face Yoosung. His eyes went wide briefly, but then settled back into place in second as he struggled to his feet and walked over to Yoosung, back arched.

Elias clasped hands with Yoosung, and squeezed tightly, eyes wandering over Yoosung's face. 

" _Friend. When back?"_ He signed slowly.

Yoosung smiled, " _I went on an adventure._ "

Elias's eyes lit up and he grinned with yellow teeth. He made his way over to his couch, plopped down, and gestured for Yoosung to sit across from him on a bench.

" _Tell._ "

...

Elias's eyes were deep when Yoosung finished, hands sore from the movement, headache remaining from straining to remember all the signs.

The sound of a gong echoed through the chutes that deposited in each room.

" _You should leave. Business._ " Elias smiled encouragingly.

" _Will you be okay?_ "

" _Doubt they know I am here._ "

Yoosung laughed softly and smiled back, getting up. He waved at his old instructor and walked back up to the dining hall, reminding himself that Elias had his own supplies of vegetables and herbs that he used to make soups for himself, as well as going up to the kitchens daily for other things.

The group of Cold members, as well as many Aithne citizens sat on long benches by tables, chatting and laughing. Saeran, Vanderwood, Jaehee, and Cylus sat around the head of one of the tables, laughing and eating already. Many Cold members ran up to Yoosung as he made his way down to Saeran, welcoming him back and shaking hands.

Saeran made room for Yoosung and boldly placed a hand dangerously close to Yoosung's crotch when he sat down, making Yoosung's cheeks turn as red as the tomato soup that they were eating.

...

"Will you be okay when we go to Calida?" Saeran asked quietly, randomly, as Yoosung changed out of his clothes.

"I'm not sure," he replied truthfully, looking over his shoulder at Saeran, who was laying on the bed that they now shared in their new room, with windows that overlooked the East District. 

"I'll be there, so don't be afraid," Saeran said nonchalantly, but he felt his biceps twitch at the thought of punching that V guy in the face for hurting Yoosung so much. He smirked to himself, but immediately shut down the thought, knowing that Yoosung wouldn't approve. 

Yoosung hummed a response and slipped into the bed with boxers on. It was a lot warmer here than at the Cold fortress, but the two clung to each other anyways, skin sticky from sweat, the blankets thrown off them.

"I missed being able to do this," Saeran said, running his fingers through Yoosung's soft hair. Yoosung nodded into his boyfriend's chest and pulled himself closer to the warmth. 

"I feel like an outsider now, to my own friends and family. I'm..."

"A stranger?" Yoosung knew the feeling.

"Yeah."

"It'll be okay." He felt like he kept hearing that, kept repeating it. 

"What do we do after Calida, Yoosung?" Saeran rubbed Yoosung's back, tracing his name in the smooth skin.

"Dunno," Yoosung murmured, "Don't worry about it now; we'll stress when we get there."

Saeran grinned, "Yeah, yeah. Go in blindly then?"

"Yep," Yoosung giggled.

"You're too weird... G'night, little snowflake," Saeran teased, kissing Yoosung's nose. 

"-the hell?" Yoosung didn't actually mind the nickname that much.

Safe again, in Saeran's warm arms, in his old home, it wasn't that hard to fall asleep.

...

Saeran woke up horny. Yoosung's heavy breathing didn't help either. The heat lamps were on outside their window, providing morning to Aithne, but Saeran was still exhausted. From the dim light, he noticed a sheen of sweat over Yoosung's face. 

Fuck, it was hot. Saeran groaned and rubbed his eyes, frowning. What he'd do to feel some snow right now. He wasn't used to this hot humidity that followed you everywhere. 

Saeran nuzzled Yoosung's neck, sweeping his tongue over the soft skin. Saeran slowly licked up the side of Yoosung's face. The salty taste of sweat left a sour, let sweet burn on his tongue. 

Saeran pulled back and bit his lip, then brought a clammy hand to Yoosung's forehead. It was hot. Too hot. He pulled himself up to kneel by his still-sleeping Yoosung, and pressed his hand to the pale skin again. Yoosung's temperature had always been pretty weird, Saeran knew this, but this was warmer than usual. 

Saeran got up, then walked to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. He was worried. Saeran pressed the cloth to Yoosung's face as the boy began to stir.

"Mgh... Saeran?"

"Are you feeling okay?"

Yoosung squinted, looking up at Saeran, who's eyebrows were knitted together in concern, an expression that Yoosung had almost never seen before.

Yoosung sat up, but then started coughing violently.

"Yoosung?!" Saeran sat next to him, helpless.

Yoosung coughed for a few more minutes, then lay back, eyes watering. 

"You're very warm," Saeran muttered, and stood up, crossing over to Yoosung's side of the bed. 

"Saeran, what are you-?"

Saeran hefted Yoosung up into his arms, and Yoosung clung to his neck, coughing again.

"Where-" He was interrupted by another coughing fit.

"Vanderwood," Saeran replied shortly, "You're sick."

"Am  _not_ ," Yoosung protested. 

Vanderwood was already up, of course. The infirmary here was a lot larger than the one at the Cold fortress, but it held a lot fewer patients. Saeran guessed it was because the citizens of Aithne did a lot less risky and dangerous things than the Cold members did. 

Vanderwood looked up when Saeran entered, and rolled his eyes. 

"Well if it isn't my favorite long-lost couple, what it is?" His voice was still foggy and gravely from sleep.

"He thinks I'm sick," Yoosung pointed to Saeran, who was still holding him.

"You  _are_ \- He  _IS_  sick," Saeran spluttered, and walked to one of the beds, promptly depositing Yoosung on the sheets, gently. 

"What's up?" Vanderwood set aside his book.

"He's coughing."

Vanderwood looked at Saeran and raised an eyebrow, "We all cough, smart one."

"But-" Saeran's protests were cut off by Yoosung, who's lung conveniently seemed to want to exit his body via windpipe. It was a solid two minutes before Yoosung's fit stopped, and he sat back against the pillow of the bed, catching his breath. 

"Sorry buddy, I gotta side with Saeran on this one. You're sick."

"Fucking fabulous."

...

Saeran and Jaehee walked slowly down several flights of stairs that lead to the private cell chamber, where Jumin was being held. 

"Do we really need him?" Saeran asked quietly, frowning.

"You know as well as I do that Rika won't see us if we go without him. She'll attack. I know you hate him, so do I, but the mission is pointless without him."

"Can I strangle him afterword?" 

"Be my guest," Jaehee laughed as she held up the ring of keys she had been carrying. They were nearing a large, rusting metal door, with a cut-out window that had metal bars crossing it. Jaehee hesitantly unlocked the door and stood back as it swung open to reveal a small room.

There was a small mat in the corner, a small, deep hole in the corner, which Saeran could only assume was a makeshift toilet, and an empty plate placed haphazardly on the floor. 

Jumin Han, in all his stuck-up, disgusting, narcissistic glory, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at a loose thread on his robe. He looked up in dull surprise when the door opened, but his face fell into one of disgust when he saw Jaehee.

"You," he sneered, and stood, not advancing towards her. Saeran stepped out from behind Jaehee, and Jumin's face flashed fear. 

"Jumin." Saeran growled, eyes dark.

"Scum," Jumin countered, trying to act relaxed and calm. Saeran's bicep twitched.

"Watch your tongue, Mr. Han. You're my prisoner after all."

"Bottom-feeders," Jumin taunted, and grinned at Saeran's testy attitude.

"We're going to Calida in a few days. You'll be coming with us," Jaehee informed the previous emperor.

"And what makes you think I'll comply?" He replied saucily, then smirking, "Why do you  _need_  me?"

"Jaehee don't tell him," Saeran warned, but Jaehee glanced at him sideways and flicked an eyebrow. 

"Rika won't attack when she sees we have you." 

Jumin barked a laugh. "Rika! Rika wouldn't care if I died. She's colder than your little resistance, darling, with a strategy too. She'll rip you to shreds."

"It'll be a good thing that you're coming then," Saeran muttered darkly. 

"You're coming, and you'll cooperate, Mr. Han. We leave in two days."

"Rest up!" Saeran sang sweetly, and Jumin scowled at him as Jaehee closed the door. 

...

The next day, Yoosung wasn't any better. 

"Fucking HELL!" Yoosung was training with Saeran in an empty banquet room, trying to gain back some strength. 

"13 more, darling!" Saeran yelled, and did another push-up. Yoosung's elbows shook as he extended his arms, breathing heavily. 

"Saeran, I'm fucking sick. This is torture."

"No, you're fucking moody," Saeran corrected, "C'mon, we're four months behind." 

"I'm not gonna look like Dax after two days of push-ups. That's why we're in the back line." 

"The back line can suck my ass!"

"Fuck you!"

When they finished, Yoosung rolled onto his back, coughing. Saeran felt a twitch of guilt for making his work so hard, but this was good for them. Saeran crawled over and hovered above him on hands and knees, smiling.

"Good job."

"You're mean," Yoosung pouted, but stopped himself before kissing Saeran on the lips.

"Why'd you stop?"

"You could get sick too."

"Like I care?"

Yoosung looked away, "You should, considering how much you care for me."

Saeran sighed and stood, then helping Yoosung up too, whose arms were still shaking. 

"Lunch?"

 

...

Yoosung was in the infirmary, reading, with Vanderwood, when he started coughing again. This time it hurt. It fucking burned his throat as he wheezed for breath, and then there was blood on his sleeve, and Vanderwood was there, a hand on his back, trying to help. And then, just like that, it stopped. Yoosung wiped a fleck of red from the side of his mouth. 

"This isn't good-"

"Don't tell Saeran. He won't let me go to Calida." 

"Why the fuck do you need to go there so badly? You're sick, even you know, and it'll only exhaust you and make you drag the group down."

"I'll get better," Yoosung said determinedly.

"You leave  _tomorrow_. You're hurting yourself by this. Your fever has barely gone down."

"I feel fine," Yoosung lied.  _I need to see V, with my own eyes, and ask him why._

There was a sudden knock on the door. Yoosung and Vanderwood looked up as a boy entered. 

"Holy shit," Vanderwood murmured, eyes wide.

The young man was tall, fit, with scarlet hair. His skin was pale and a set of glasses framed his golden amber eyes. His face held the kind of expression that made you wonder if he was about to crack a joke or tell you a heartfelt story. 

One thing was certain though. This was Saeran's twin brother. 


	24. Calida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the resistance heads to calida to meet rika and v

"Saeyoung?" Yoosung tried, and Vanderwood's eyes snapped to him, confused.

"You know him?" He asked.

"Sort of."

Saeyoung spoke up, "Is Saeran here?" Vanderwood and Yoosung stared at him, bewildered.

Suddenly, there were footsteps in the hall outside, and everything skidded to slow-motion as Saeran walked into the infirmary, expression neutral, and then freezing as his eyes found Saeyoung, who was now standing in the middle of the room, face full of shock.

No one said anything for a few moments. The first one to break the silence was the red-head.

"Saeran...?"

The leader didn't reply. Yoosung looked between the two as tension grew. Saeran stepped forward slightly and Yoosung sprung from his seat when he saw his boyfriend ball his fist and the muscles in his shoulder contract as he wound back.

"Saeran, no!" Yoosung said loudly, and Saeran paused, Saeyoung with a look of fear and surprise on his face. "Remember what I said," Yoosung whispered, and Saeran's stormy eyes softened just a fraction to Yoosung.

"Where?" He asked Saeyoung sharply, turning to him.

"I've been in hiding. I only just heard the news, I came as fast as I could-"

"I don't care about  _that_. Where were you before? Before I was banished. Because the answer is  _nowhere_. You were  _nowhere_ for me. You were  _nowhere_." Saeran spat the word.

"I..."

"You abandoned me. Ruthlessly, without a single word."

"No," Saeyoung said, eyes full of pain.

"You abandoned me, your name, your parents, and everything!"

"No..."

"You crumpled up and shredded... our memories... as if they were nothing more than pieces of paper."

"No, no!'

"Is that all you can say?! You remember, you said to me in a kind way, 'Don't worry. I'll make money fast. Let's become independent next year. We'll live together. Let's get out of here after we get a bit more money. So don't get sick. If you get sick, we won't be able to do anything. So you have to eat well. Don't cry. You have to stay strong. Tomorrow will be better than today'."

Saeyoung was motionless.

Saeran continued, "And best of all, 'Let's live happily where no one can find us. Let's be happy, just the two of us.' Happy..." Saeran laughed cruelly.

"...Stop it. No. That's not true. I didn't abandon you. Please stop it."

"Coward! You disappeared without a trace, without a way to reach you."

Saeyoung was crying. Saeran didn't care.

"Look at me. Huh? Oh... Sad eyes. You must be in pain."

Yoosung couldn't take it anymore. He could see that Saeran was in a lot of pain too, and saltwater was spilling from his eyes but he harshly tore them away with his shirt sleeve, angry at himself and at Saeyoung. At his brother.

"Saeran," Yoosung interrupted. Saeran's sharp, angry glare caught to Yoosung's violet eyes.

"What?" He growled, and Yoosung flinched.

"Calm down. I know you're upset but... this isn't helping anything. Take a break."

Saeran stared at Yoosung for a long moment.

"Whose side are you on?" He asked quietly but immediately regretted it as Yoosung's features plummeted.

"Saeyoung," Yoosung addressed the twin, keeping his eyes on Saeran, "Would you give us a moment? I'll come get you soon."

"Yes, of course," Saeyoung said sadly, and Yoosung felt his heart go out to the twin.

"Vanderwood, can you fill him in?"

"Who made you king?" Yoosung looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Fine." The brunette slumped out of the infirmary with Saeyoung.

When they were alone, Saeran stepped forward and wrapped himself in Yoosung, who was wondering to himself how on earth he had sounded so commanding and orderly.

Saeran's shoulders shook, but Yoosung didn't want to humiliate him by asking if he was crying so he stayed quiet, rubbing Saeran's back.

"He was... right there," Saeran whispered softly, shaking his head. 

"You guys will be able to work this out, I know you will. It'll be okay, you just need time. Should I tell Jaehee to postpone Calida?"

"No. We're gonna go, even if my idiot brother," Saeran choked on the word, "comes too. It's been four months, we've put it off for too long. Rika... I'm not sure what we'll do with her, but we're gonna figure it out. I need to sort things out with my brother, right now, so I'm not stressed shitless tomorrow." 

Saeran paused, then pulled back, looking into Yoosung's perfect violet eyes. "I love you." Somehow, Saeran tried to put every other feeling in those three words. The 'thank you', the 'I'm sorry', the 'please understand'. 

"I love you too." Yoosung stared straight back, he knew. 

Saeran looked, away, frowning, "Can... you go get him?" 

A smile lit up on Yoosung's lips as he nodded, "Anything for you, your majesty," he teased. 

Saeran forced a smile in return and pushed Yoosung towards the door. 

"Are Saeran and the blonde guy...?" Yoosung heard Saeyoung ask an unfinished question.

Vanderwood's sarcastic voice replied with, "Hip hip hooray, honey, he's gay." There was laughter from Saeyoung, and Yoosung grinned too, walking into view in the hallway.

"Hey, Saeran's okay now," he called to the red-headed twin.

"Speaking of which, Saeyoung, this is Queen Yoosung," Vanderwood winked at Yoosung.

"Fuck off." 

...

Saeran and Saeyoung talked in private for over an hour before emerging, Saeyoung grinning. 

"You good?" Vanderwood asked, standing up with Yoosung. 

"Oh yeah," Saeran said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, stop with the sarcasm,  _bro~_ ," Saeyoung teased, throwing an arm around Saeran's shoulders, who shrugged it off. 

"We're good," Saeran reassured Yoosung, and Saeyoung swooned.

"You caught a cutie," Saeyoung winked but put his hands up in surrender when Saeran glared at him, wrapping an arm around Yoosung's waist and tugging him to his side. 

"How sweet," Vanderwood cooed, and smirked. 

"Saeyoung," Saeran addressed his brother, "We're going to Calida tomorrow. Are you in?"

"Hell yeah," Saeyoung said determinedly, humorously flexing what little muscle he had. 

"Come to the gates at the sound of the gong. You can't miss it." 

"Alright, thank you." 

"Let's go, guys, big day tomorrow," Saeran told the group, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, the deja vu," Yoosung sighed, thinking back to the night before they invaded Aithne, with the similar words before the day of the battle, telling everyone to get rest, eat a good breakfast. He began coughing again, and felt blood in his throat, but closed his mouth before it could ruin his sleeve more, and risk being seen by Saeran. 

"Pft, I know," Vanderwood sighed as they walked out of the infirmary. Yoosung realized that the twins weren't following; he peeked back inside the infirmary to see something that made his heart throb. Saeyoung was hugging Saeran tightly, who hung limp, but there were tears in his eyes. 

"I did miss you," Saeyoung whispered, and Saeran nodded, fingers clutching the bottom hem on Saeyoung's sweatshirt. Yoosung sighed, heart thumping in sympathy, and walked silently back to Saeran's room to wait.

...

Yoosung hovered by the sink, holding a tissue to his mouth. His coughing fits racked through his body and he shuddered, his throat raw. Saeran was taking too long. Maybe he was planning with Jaehee? More blood came up when he coughed again.

Yoosung wiped his mouth and swore under his breath, staring into his violet eyes, which were bloodshot from his coughing. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and he sighed, rubbing his neck. 

"Get your shit together, Yoosung," he whispered in a hoarse voice, frowning, "You're seeing V tomorrow, and if you start coughing up blood then, you're gonna be just as weak as when you last saw him. Be fucking strong."

Straightening, he walked out of the bathroom, pulling off his shirt, poking the flat muscle of his stomach. Yoosung didn't like being cooped up in Aithne, he felt deprived again, even more now, now that he knew about the outside wonders of cold and sun. These artificial heat lamps made him drowsy and the humidity was insane. 

Yoosung panted slightly, and shed his pants too, climbing into bed with only thin boxers as the heat settled around him. That was another thing; there was no wind here. No breeze, no snow whipping your face until your cheeks were red and your nose was numb. Yoosung turned to his side, closing his eyes.

An uncertain amount of time later, Saeran came in quietly, and Yoosung felt his stomach clench when he realized that the bloody tissues were still in the bathroom. Before he could get up to hide them, Saeran had sauntered into the bathroom, and then he was yelling, and Yoosung's tired ears couldn't make out what he was saying at first. 

"Yoosung?! What is this?!" Saeran's eyes were terrified, and Yoosung was sitting up in bed, Saeran's strong fingers curled around his shoulders up, worried and frightened. 

"Saeran-" Yoosung coughed, and Saeran stopped yelling his worries, cupping the back of Yoosung's neck with a cold hand, bringing him closer, and Yoosung laid his head on Saeran's shoulder, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, blood dripping from his lips. 

"You can't go tomorrow," Saeran moaned, pleading, "You're not okay."

Yoosung shook his head, but he was doubting his own health too. 

"Please, Saeran. He used to be my friend. I need to see him." 

Saeran frowned, rubbing Yoosung's back, "You don't  _need_  to," he mumbled. 

"I'll see how I feel in the morning," Yoosung lied, pulling back. Saeran nodded, but his face was still worried. 

"How do you feel?" 

"Sick," Yoosung replied honestly, but he smiled, "I'll be okay."

"You're staying here if you feel even slightly unwell tomorrow."

"Okay."  _Yeah right_.

...

Yoosung woke up frequently in the night, drifting back into light sleep before jolting awake, images of V's emotionless face, and then Yoosung throwing a dart at him, only to realize he was made of paper, like the poster, before waking up in cold sweats. The night stayed hot and humid, making Yoosung sticky, and he edged away from Saeran to try and avoid too much body heat. 

He fell into a somewhat deep sleep in the hours before the lamps slowly began glowing, taking two hours until they were fully bright. Saeran had trouble sleeping as well and got up to pace around the room at one point, trying to clear his mind. 

The sound of the gong sounded in the morning, waking Saeran and Yoosung with the loud reverberation. Yoosung jolted up, coughed experimentally, and grinned. His throat felt better.

Saeran threw a pillow over his eyes, and Yoosung yanked it off, climbing on top of his boyfriend. 

"Saeran~!"

"What?" Saeran whined. 

"I'm not sick anymore!" Yoosung sang, and coughed cleanly for proof.

"Mngh, that's great, Sungy."  _That_  was a new pet name. 

"Sooo, I can come to Calida!" Yoosung bent down and kissed Saeran hard on the lips, missing the feel, as he had refrained to prevent Saeran from getting sick. Saeran woke up a little at that, and sat up, running his hands through Yoosung's soft yellow hair, which was slightly tangled from sleep. He slipped his fingers down over Yoosung's shoulders and back, making Yoosung sigh dreamily through his lips. 

When they pulled apart, Saeran's eyes were bright.

"Let's go invade a kingdom."

...

The crowd was loud, nothing like the Cold's expedition to Aithne. All of the Cold members were present, as well as a hundred or so Aithne citizens, holding older weapons and cracking their knuckles. Since they had been freed from the tyranny and been around the Cold members for a while, they'd grown very brave and determined, most with a spirit that equaled the Cold members. Jaehee had guessed that it was because they had lived under oppression for so long, but it was a bit scary, to see all the now-aggressive citizens with grim, excited looks on their faces. 

Saeran and Yoosung walked through the crowd, most people turning as they passed, bowing their heads or smiling encouragingly. Saeran's face showed hard, unflinching resolution, eyes dark. This was their last threatening obstacle. After this, nothing was decided.

The soldiers stood outside the castle, and Jaehee called out over the crowd, her voice ringing out. She looked amazing, and Saeran winked at Yoosung as they saw MC, the key-keeper, blushing shyly as she kissed Jaehee on the cheek, who beamed. 

Jaehee's short hair suited her, and she tousled it out of her eyes, speaking above the crowd.

"I leave MC in charge! We won't be long though." She winked, and the crowd cheered. 

"You know the drill! Let's go!"

...

The start of the expedition was much like the start of the Cold's first. Apparently, Jaehee had been training the citizens outside, getting them used to the cold weather. Yoosung smiled as he thought of how funny it would've been to watch them see the snow for the first time. 

He burst into a grin as soon as they exited the stuffy dome kingdom, falling to his knees and burying his hands in the snow. Saeran did much of the same, closing his eyes as he felt the snowflakes on his face. 

Calida was visible from here, as it was a lot closer than the Cold fortress. The castle was a lot grander than Aithne, made out of stone blocks. No one knew where the resources were from, just like Aithne. Stone towers cut through the sky, and it looked dark and cold.

The recruits were undeterred though, which Yoosung admired. They set off at a quick pace, assuming to get to the castle by late evening. 

Then there was the subject of Jumin Han. He was in the middle of a strongly-built guard circle, who shuffled him along, partially blocking out the sound of his yells out outrage and disbelief. 

"You were  _my_  soldiers once! Listen to me!" He wailed, and Yoosung rolled his eyes. Zen had been promoted to main guard, so he had stayed in Calida to watch over things with MC, and he and Jaehee had trained the guards well.

Unlike Aithne, the Cold had no spies in Calida. They had no idea about its inner workings or guard schedules or anything of the sort. They were completely clueless, which made Saeran uneasy. He didn't like plans, but this felt too risky. He grasped Yoosung's hand tightly, and they trudged through the thin snow together. 

...

Mid-way through the day, the group stopped for lunch, and cheered as they saw reinforcements coming Southwest from the Fortress, probably those who had stayed back to defend the Cold when the threats from Aithne had come before the original group had left. 

Yoosung and Saeran reunited with several familiar faces, and the excitement pushed the group into restlessness, and eventually, they just started running again, high spirits as they ran towards the castle, almost arrogant as they shouted and laughed with each other, sneering at the castle in disgust. 

"Down with Rika!" Someone screamed as they got closer, and that's when the arrow rain started.

Archers from up on top of the castle bridges, connecting the turrets, started shooting arrows in waves, and Saeran raised his voice in a roaring cry, raising his fist. The soldiers ducked and dashed to the side. It wasn't like everyone was fine, people were getting hit, but as Saeran looked around, he noticed with a grim smile that Jaehee had trained them where they sacrificed their hands instead of their faces, their arms instead of their chests. 

Saeran looked forward at the doors ahead of them, and frowned. They looked tough, but not as strong as the doors at Aithne. Immediately, his mind flashed to Dax, who was carrying a thick metal bar. When the group was safely under the overhang, safe from the archers, they stopped, and Saeran realized the plan as Dax ran forward, and rammed the metal bar in the center of the doors. The metal slabs crumpled in, then burst forward. 

The Cold stood still for a second, framed by the small doorway. They had lost about 50 to the archers, but Calida was a deadly place. They were all nervous for their lives. 

"Don't split yet," Jaehee called from the front of the group. She looked through the doorway, and shivered. It wasn't warm, unlike Aithne and the Fortress. Rika kept her castle cold. 

The doorway led into a long, narrow hallway, but there were no soldiers to be seen. The arrows had stopped hitting the snow behind the group too, so nothing but the group's collective heavy breathing could be heard.

"Jaehee?" Cylus whispered, and the leader looked to him, as he had stayed by her side the whole trip.

"Don't split up," She murmured, and Cylus nodded, "Stay alert."

The rebels walked forward slowly, feet echoing through the stone of the hallway. Their whispers carried through the hall, and Jaehee squinted her eyes at the end of the hallway. This seemed just too easy. She wished she had Saeran to come advise her, but he was at the end of the line with Yoosung, so she was alone except for Cylus.

"Is it a trap?" She breathed to him. He looked up at her with worried eyes, and shrugged minutely. 

Jaehee walked forward slowly, hand on her belt where she kept a knife. Barely breathing, she pulled a piece of bread from her pack and tossed it into the room, then pulled back, listening. 

 _There._  The sound shifted, and she could hear the shuffle of clothing tense as the scrap landed on the floor. Cylus grabbed her arm, and nodded. 

"Ready?" She said, voice a bit louder. Cylus's eyes widened, but then he grinned, grabbed his dagger, and grinned. 

"GO!" 

The Cold surged forward like an avalanche, and they were all laughing. If they went out, they were going out together. 

...

It was several minutes later before the back of the group got into the hall, and Saeran and Yoosung were restless. They had heard the clash when the front line had rushed forward, and now they were nervous out of their minds for the results and outcome. Yoosung's hands were shaking, even though he had shoved them in his pockets. 

They finally burst into the room. A room of... victory? Even with their disadvantage, soldiers in parkas and long, thin, whip-like swords lay on their backs, groaning in pain, with only a few Aithne and Cold members laying around them. 

"Jaehee!" Saeran called out, and Jaehee turned, looking for the source of her best friend. 

"What happened?"

Jaehee looked shocked herself. "I'm not really sure. The army was weak. Maybe it was because we can out so quickly?" She looked around, baffled. The group milled around, talking slowly, all confused.

...

There was more fighting in the courtyard. Then in the empty, spacious ballroom. They had finished off the soldiers in the hall when a guard suddenly came running down the hallway, hands up in surrender. 

"The queen would like to see you," he said in a deep voice to Jaehee. "You may bring 3. Also, the prisoner." His eyes flicked to Jumin, who was visible, near the front now, still surrounded. 

"Jaehee, you have to know that this is a trap," Cylus pleaded, but Jaehee didn't listen to him, only held his bright blue eyes for a moment before calling out. "Vanderwood! Take Jumin. Saeran and Yoosung, come to the front! Cylus is in charge until I get back. If I do not return, take yourselves out of danger, and return to Aithne. I  _will_  be returning though."

Her orders were delivered quickly, and in seconds, she was walking determinedly down the long hallways, cape flowing out behind her like running water, Vanderwood holding Jumin roughly by the back of his neck, who didn't struggle much.

Saeran and Yoosung walked behind the three, holding hands tightly, eyes set. 

 _Rika, V, Rika, V, Rika..._  Yoosung's mind hummed their names, blending them together and then separating them again, over and over to the beat of his footsteps. Then just  _V, V, V, V._

Saeran looked down at Yoosung, concerned. The blonde seemed distressed. Of course, he was, considering the jerky couple they were about to witness first hand. Saeran scoffed humorlessly when he thought about it. The two psychos had it coming for them- Jaehee had both physically and verbally battered Saeran before. 

The guard led the group up a flight of stairs, and then to a set of double doors, thick and etched with swirling designs that looked like flames. He knocked once, then hesitated, waiting. 

"Come in!" Came a high, shrill voice, and Yoosung clenched his fist tightly, squeezing Saeran's hand before letting go to adjust his eye-patch. 

"Ready?" Jaehee murmured, just like the attack earlier that afternoon. The guard pushed the doors open, and she set off with confidence, ignoring the imposing throneroom. 

The hall was large and rectangular, and had a sloped ceiling, making you feel smaller and smaller as you grew closer to the throne. The straight path was framed by stone pillars that supported the ceiling and a deep blue carpet that led to the throne. The pillars were mounted with torches that were lit, sparks drifting up from the flames as they burned. Jaehee slowed as they approached the throne, then stopped completely when she was several feet away, looking up at who could only be assumed as Rika, the queen of Calida.

Yoosung's fingernails bit crescent bruises into his skin, and he shook with anger, despite Saeran's warm hand on his back, trying to calm him.  _Where is V?_ He wanted to yell, but held back as the two queens held focus on each other, Jaehee's deep brown eyes flaring daggers. 

Rika sat primly in her throne, one leg crossed over the other, hands in her lap. Her long yellow hair, like Yoosung's, trailed down and over her shoulders and back, waves that framed her sides. Her eyes were a sour green, though some would find it pretty, hers just made her look like a snake. Her skin was pale, almost white like the snow outside, and her limbs were delicate and thin. She wore a long dress with a black stripe down the center, and a white and blue shawl draped over her shoulders.

"Jaehee," she acknowledged, and stood up. 

"Rika." Jaehee tried to relax her shoulders. 

"Jumin Han," Rika pointed out, gazing pointedly at the post-emperor, scrunching up her nose, "You disgust me." 

"Rika, you have no right-" Jumin started, but Rika waved her hand deftly in the air and he shut up, glaring at her. 

"I have every right to treat you like the failure that you are, Jumin," she said breezily, and turned her attention back on Jaehee, "I'd like to keep this quick."

"Me, as well," Jaehee retorted coldly, but kept her expression neutral. 

"I have known about the resistance for quite a long time now. You did not pose a threat to me, therefore I did not attack. But now you've taken Aithne, and proven your worth... But I have no use for fighting. This place is dead. I'll be leaving soon."

"Not if I can help it," Jaehee said, frowning.

Rika blinked, then smiled, a strange, plastic expression. 

"You may not like me, Jaehee, but I will not be captured and made into a slave to you. You'll show me respect, as I am to you, and I will leave my castle with the loyal subjects that remain with me."

Jaehee bit her lip to prevent her from saying anything too offensive. "Very well. If you swear your surrender, then you'll leave unharmed."

Rika rolled her eyes, batting her eyelashes, " _I swear_ ," she cooed, and stepped forward from her throne. Her eyes landed on Yoosung. "Oh, how cute." Her eyes lit up, suddenly, and her lips curled up into a malicious smile. "Wait! You're the boy from Aithne! The one that- Look how tough you are now." It made Yoosung fume as she talked to him like he was still a little kid, bawling at the smallest things. 

"Cool it, Yoosung," Saeran rumbled, and Yoosung tried to relax, even though he felt like either crying or punching Rika square in the face. 

"Jihyun!" Rika called out suddenly, and there was a smirk on her face, a smug grin that made Yoosung want to puke.  _Jihyun?_... _V?!_

The sound of footsteps... and then he appeared out of a side door in the chamber. Yoosung felt his throat tighten as V stepped forward, into the light, next to Rika, looking at her before drifting his eyes over the crowd, catching on Yoosung. He froze. 

"V?" Yoosung felt small. 

"You can take him," Rika said nonchalantly, inspecting her nails, "He was good for a while, but everything gets boring after a while."

"Rika..." V's voice was low, almost hurt, but his eyes were glued to Yoosung.

"She brainwashed me, Yoosung, I swear, I didn't want to go."

"Not true," Rika sang, and Yoosung looked at her, desperate for answers, "I  _did_  'influence' him, but he wanted to go too." 

"I wanted to try and help Aithne by learning about Calida?"

"You're sick," Yoosung blurted, losing control, "Both of you!"

"Yoosung-" V started, hurt.

"I hate you!" Yoosung shouted at Rika, "But I hate you the most!" He turned on V. His heart hurt, "I really hate you, you know?"

"It's okay... that's fine. So stop torturing yourself. I can't say I'm sorry enough, for all the things that happened. It's okay to hate me." V's words were kind. Yoosung hated that too.

"This is all your fault. It's your fault I'm so messed up. She said you could leave! You didn't even come see me to explain!"

"I thought I was doing the right thing... I thought it would hurt you too much to see me."

"Of course, V, you're always trying to do the best thing," Yoosung said sarcastically, and Saeran stepped back, away from Yoosung. He'd intervene if he had to, but Yoosung had given him the same space with Saeyoung.  _Saeyoung, where are you?_ Last he'd seen, his mischievous twin brother had been in the middle of the lines, chatting and laughing with the group. Saeran winced as Yoosung continued to fight with V. 

Suddenly, the teal-haired man walked forward and wrapped his long arms around Yoosung, who struggled for a moment.

"Let go!" He shrieked, but V didn't budge, eyes closed in mental and emotional pain. 

"I'm sorry," V murmured.

"You should've done something if you're so sorry. You're the one responsible...!" 

"I wanted to. More than anything. Trust me, please."

"It's all your fault!" Yoosung sobbed, and he felt hot tears on his cheeks. 

"Trust me."

"Stop telling me to trust you! How could I ever-" Yoosung's hiccups interrupted his words, "I could never trust you."

"It's... it's all your fault," Yoosung said again, and V nodded.

"Okay."

"It's... fault..."

"It's my fault."

When they pulled away, Jaehee and Rika were finishing a quiet conversation, concerning transportation, and it seemed that even Rika had softened a little bit. 

Yoosung retreated back to Saeran, who smiled at him slowly, wiping his tears.

"It's gonna be okay," Yoosung sniffled.

...

There was a bonfire that night. The group had stayed mostly oblivious to the going-ons in the throne room, save a select few like Saeyoung and Cylus, who begged for details. 

V was welcomed slowly, but he stayed away from most of the members, talking only when he needed to, being quiet, just like Yoosung remembered. It would take a while for their friendship to stitch back together, but the two were secretly confident that it would happen. 

Yoosung lay back against Saeran as they lounged on a laid-out blanket on the snow, the fire providing a perfect mix of hot and cold outside. 

"They seem close," V commented to Saeyoung, who was sitting near him. 

"Together," Saeyoung replied, taking his two index fingers and touching them together, wiggling his eyebrows at V. 

"Ah," V hummed, and looked at the pair again, trying to remember if he had ever had an inkling that Yoosung was gay when they were kids. He came up with nothing.

It was a relatively happy time. The Cold was happy, Aithne was happy, and who even knew about the few citizens of Calida. They were content, for now.

Yoosung smiled, intertwining his fingers with Saeran's.

"What next?"


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~somewhere over the rainbow~

Yoosung stood on the edge of the water, ocean lapping at his ankles as he wiggled his toes down underneath the wet sand. The sun shone off the soft waves, but their roar could be heard from farther out, where they crashed upon each other before arriving to shore. Yoosung's pants were rolled up to his knees, and the boats that he, Saeran, and the Cold had arrived on could be seen down the beach, rocking gently together as the mass of people laughed and yelled together, not yet over seeing the ocean and beaches, even though they had been traveling for months from island to island.

The sun had changed. Instead of the cold, hard light that it had provided back home, this sun was full of warmth and happiness. Birds, which Yoosung had read about, floated above the ocean, bobbing on the waves when they landed.

Yoosung closed his eye and tilted his face up to the blue, cloudless sky, a faint smile on his lips. Aithne and Calida had elected new representatives to lead them, but the Cold had left Tannon to itself. Emille had smiled when they had agreed on that.

"Yoosung!" Saeran's voice rang out and Yoosung turned, looking at his husband calmly. He rubbed his thumb against his fourth finger, where a simple, white ring rested, carved expertly from the shed antlers of a reindeer, matching Saeran's.

"Hey," Yoosung called as Saeran jogged over the sand to him, smiling.

"It's beautiful here," Saeran said breathlessly, grabbing Yoosung's hand tightly.

"Should we settle here then?"

"No," Saeran replied, same as always, "We've still got so much to explore." Yoosung asked this question every time they stopped, and Saeran always gave the same answer.

"We'll be on ships, exploring, until we die on the waves, Saeran," Yoosung laughed, and Saeran rolled his eyes.

"I just want to find the-"

"Perfect place, yes I know," Yoosung teased Saeran, looking behind them at the dense green forest. "This feels pretty perfect though."

"Let's check it out a bit more before deciding," Saeran said and kissed Yoosung's nose.

"Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading this far, if you've given kudos or commented, everything means a lot. I started working on this project in February and finished it in June... i was really proud of it until i went back and found all the spelled errors hahaha... anyways, i hope you like this one! thank you again for your support :)


End file.
